


Sonatine

by jisungtheworld (winwinnie)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Realities, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Android Character, Angst, Attempted Murder, LOONAVERSE AU, M/M, Temporary Character Death, basic ships bc im a basic bitch, everyone gets their own plotline, the friendships are just as important uwu, this fic is the woojin god agenda headquarters, yep you heard that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2020-03-08 03:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 140,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winwinnie/pseuds/jisungtheworld
Summary: Somewhere in the forest, a boy opens his eyes.Wake up,whisper the leaves,we have a job for you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is a work in progress i couldnt think of anything better atm
> 
> You don't need to have any knowledge of the loonaverse to understand this, just know i've got six separate sheets of paper with plot written on them and I still haven't finished
> 
> enjoy
> 
> (this is the introduction, the chapters are going to be longer than this)

**EARTH**

 

Woojin sits in the park alone, for a few more seconds. The sun beats down onto the tarmac around him. It causes the light to shimmer, the slides in the distance wavering, and even just the thought of the metal causes him to shudder. His feet drag along the ground beneath him. Even through his trainers, he can still feel it, almost melting them together. He has half a mind to think that they're going to stick to the gravel beneath him, trapping him here forever.

The plastic of the swing behind him burns through his shorts. The air is hot and heavy, hanging around him like a thick cloud. It clings to his skin, presses his hair to his forehead, tugs at the edges of his t-shirt. There's a breeze, not enough to give any sort of release from the searing heat, but still there.

Unsurprisingly, the park is empty. There are no children, as all sensible parents have pushed them inside, where the suffocating heat can't reach their air-conditioned fortresses, where the taps still run clean water and the air doesn't sit in their lungs.

Woojin opens his eyes, waits a few more seconds, and frowns.

Something's wrong.

There's a strange absence of thoughts in his mind. What was it- something about the pressing heat, about how blue the sky looks. But that's not right. There should be something else there, but there's not. A thought that sits at the tip of his tongue, something he  _knows_  is important.

There was a lull in the wind as he'd opened his eyes, and it begins to pick up again as his confusion deepens.

He's so certain it was important.

And yet, there's nothing there. No matter how hard he tries to recall. Now, as he kicks harder on the ground, the swing beginning to reach higher, everything seems to come flooding back. Things he didn't know he'd forgotten in the first place, the mundane information that sits in the back of his memories.

But still...

Despite the fact that the heat seems to dry his tongue, pushing down on his temples with an immense amount of pressure, he can't quite let go of the missing thoughts.

Something about it is important, and if he just knew what... He's so sure of it, and yet he doesn't even know what he's supposed to be so sure about.

The sound of footsteps on the tarmac beside him break him out of his thoughts. He presses his feet to the ground again, slowing himself down until he can smile at the person beside him.

Chan hangs over the frame of the swings, seemingly unaffected by the burning metal, and the bracelet on his wrist clinking against it. He grins back.

Woojin's heart skips a beat. "You made it," he says, "I only had to wait for five years this time."

Chan rolls his eyes, sitting in the swing next to him. "Don't be dramatic, Wooj. Besides," he gestures to the empty park, "Am I or am I not still the first person here? You should be more grateful."

He laughs as he says it, and Woojin leans over to whack him on the shoulder. "You're my boyfriend, I don't have to be grateful that you're half an hour late."

"It wasn't  _half an hour_ ," Chan pouts, but he knows that Woojin is kidding. They easily fall back into a comfortable chatter. Trainers now brushing the ground in a matching rhythm, the tarmac melting beneath their feet.

The light flashes off the bracelet again as he moves, and Woojin can't help but glance down at his own, matching one. They were two of a pair- a pair that had never even meant to be a pair. The first Christmas after they'd started dating, they'd accidentally bought each other identical bracelets. Metal, with a thin clasp on the back and no decoration. Maybe some people would say they were plain, but the simple design had spoken to both Chan and Woojin, and now they couldn't imagine ever not having them on.

After a while, maybe five minutes of insufferable heat, someone pushes Woojin's swing. A way of announcing his presence, so undeniably Minho that Woojin doesn't even need to turn around and check who it is.

Minho pulls a face, collapsing onto the ground before almost immediately getting back up. It's too hot to lie down, too hot to do anything except sweat and complain about the heat. Which is exactly what he plans to do, right after he complains about Woojin and Chan being too domestic.

"Do you have to be so couple-y? Some of us are single."

Chan grins at Minho, pulling Woojin's hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the warm skin there. Minho immediately pretends to gag, before deciding that even that is too much effort. Too much movement will just cause him to become even more sweaty, and he  _really_ doesn't want that.

"What took you so long?" Asks Woojin, before Chan can torment Minho any further. Not that he minds the younger boy's lips against his skin, but it causes him to blush, and that's really not ideal in this weather. Instead, he goes for a simple change in conversation.

Minho grabs the third swing, straddling it so he's facing them and rocking from side to side. "Oh!" He says, and his whole face lights up, "I saw the cutest cat!"

Chan jumps up, pointing at Woojin excitedly. "I told you! I told you yesterday, I said 'Oh, I bet Minho's going to be distracted by a cat again' - and I was right!"

He is right. Woojin casts his mind back to last night, and Chan did in fact say that. The memory is blurry, something about it seeming hyper-realistic. Almost as if it's been pushed through some strange short of filter. But, much like before, he can't quite put his finger on what's wrong. It's just a gut feeling, and nothing more.

Right?

"Yeah," He eventually mumbles. Chan crows in victory, kicking up the swing until he's soaring high above them. Woojin can only hope that the air against his skin is worth the amount of energy he's using. Every one of Woojin's limbs is way too heavy to even imagine moving further than his seat. The heat has settled comfortably deep in his bones, sapping the last of his energy.

Minho pouts, "It was a really cute cat though." He drags his shoes across the gravel, pushing around a tiny stone with his toes. "I felt bad for it. Imagine having a fur coat in this weather. The poor baby must have been so hot."

"Don't feel too sorry for it," says a new voice, "We're all overheating."

Woojin looks up right as Jeongin pushes Minho off the swing and onto the burning tarmac. The older boy complains, hissing as his skin makes contact, but he's smiling. They bicker, but that's normal.

It's actually Seungmin that catches Woojin's eye.

He'd arrived with Jeongin, but hadn't spoken. Instead, he's now sat on the fourth and final swing. Pushing himself no more than a few centimetres off the ground, and keeping his eyes trained on the ground. One hand clutches the chain of the swing, the other his backpack. Seungmin's never without it, and his fingers are white from how hard he's gripping the fabric.

And yet, this again is normal. Seungmin acts like half a boy. He's only there half of the time, lingering in the background, not quite alive enough to join in. Woojin can't help but worry about him. He knows deep down that Seungmin wasn't always like this. Something happened that left him a mere shell of himself.

Jeongin catches Woojin looking. They make eye contact, and his smile slides off his face. Jeongin glances at Seungmin before saying, "His batteries ran out halfway here. We had to make an emergency stop for him to recharge."

Ah.

That makes sense.

Seungmin finally turns to face Woojin, and the older boy understands. The light catches off his right eye, the faint blue circle ever present. All his insecurities, his biggest secret, right there for everyone to see. Woojin knows that he's always been overly conscious about being not-quite human. An android, in a world where it isn't uncommon, but nowhere near normal. It's messed up, but he's seen as defective before he's even opened his mouth.

Someone grabs his hand, and he looks up to see Chan. He has a matching frown on his face. Woojin knows that he worries the same amount - if not more- about the younger boy.

Seungmin, and his endless battle against the rest of the world.

"Come on," says Chan, pulling Woojin up off the seat, "There's a cafe five minutes away that opened recently. Maybe we can get a drink that'll cool us down."

"That's a great idea." Says Woojin. He can already imagine the cold liquid chilling his bones, some relief against the heat that only seems to be getting stronger. He pulls Chan to his side, squeezing his hand.

A sign to say that he understands.

That he doesn't have to be alone.

Minho and Jeongin stop fighting at the first mention of the cafe. Now, they throw different names of drinks at each other, each one more extravagant than the last. They've obviously forgotten that none of them have to money to buy anything that complicated, but Woojin doesn't have it in him to break them out of their dream.

And Seungmin.

Seungmin can't drink. He can't go out in the cold, can't have food, can't go for longer than three hours without needing to be recharged.

But he follows, glassy eyes still trained on the floor.

They leave the park together, the heat pressing down like a heavy blanket. Suffocating, sitting heavy in their lungs and pasting their hair to their foreheads. The same as any other day, the same mundane routine that they should be used to by now.

Normal.  

 

 

**THE WOODS**

The leaves rustle. The impact of whatever has just happened affected even the lands here, even the leaves in the very centre of the woods. They rustle like whispers, passing secrets from one branch to another. There's a presence here that doesn't belong.

Or rather, it does belong, just not yet. It's new here, new to the woods and new to existence. Something young. The byproduct of whatever caused the rustling, the secret that the leaves were so intent on whispering to each other.

A boy.

The wind stokes his ankles, bare skin never before touched. The boy shivers, pulling his arms closer to his body. He's not awake, not yet, but the leaves find it in them to let him sleep for a while longer. He's causing no harm. Nothing resides in him except innocence.

They stay content to watch, but eventually the sun dips behind the tallest of the firs. Shadows paint the forest floor in long black stripes, the world plunged into a haze of orange and yellow.

Now is a good a time as any.

_Wake up_ , whisper the leaves,  _we have a job for you. Wake up._

Changbin opens his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh thank you for all the kind comments on the last chapter!!
> 
> in regards to how this is connected to the loonaverse, I had to read up on A LOT of theories and combined loona members to fit with stray kids, so don't be too confused if this fic starts going off in a strange direction
> 
> love you all <3

 

 

**THE WOODS**

 

There are leaves beneath his feet.  They're not particularly uncomfortable, but tiny corners break off and get stuck between his toes . The sensation isn't nice at all. He supposes that because it's all he's ever known, he shouldn't complain.

But since when did he listen to what he should do.

Besides, Changbin thinks, as he steps on a particularly crunchy leaf that shatters into what almost feels like tiny needles, if they didn't want him to complain then they wouldn't have given him memories of walking on grass  .  Green blades that brushed the soles of his feet like tender fingertips, the whisper of tiny flowers and soft soil .

And if they didn't mean to, they should have known better.

Memories are powerful things. 

He can remember thundering waterfalls, the mist spraying his face as rainbows danced between the water droplets . He remembers thunder, the air hanging hot and heavy, charged with electricity. The sun that warmed his arms, the light fabric that stuck to his skin.

Memories make a person who they are.

Changbin's memories are what The Woods have given him.

"What am I here for?"

It's a bit blunt. Too harsh, considering he's only been alive for a few minutes. But he already knows that he's not one to skip around the truth, so he doesn't waste any time. "What's my purpose?"

The forest creaks. Letting him know that they heard him, even if they don't reply immediately. 

The branches of the trees bend down, burdened with the weight of every leaf turning to face him. All curious to see this boy- this foreign conscience that doesn't belong.  The flowers uncurl, the few animals that could survive here peering out from between fallen logs. 

"Well?"

_You have a purpose._

The Woods hums with an energy so powerful that Changbin is almost knocked off his feet. It pulls his hair from his face, his bones throbbing with life.  Each word echoes from somewhere deep inside him, the pit of his stomach pulsing with every syllable . It's nothing more than a whisper, and yet it completely surrounds him.

"And? What is it?"

The leaves rustle, almost as if they're laughing. _You are impatient, child. Answers will come, if you follow._

The very trees part in front of him. Pulling roots free from soil, they  slowly  create a path. Each side lined by a twisted net of branches and twigs, pulsing with the same energy as the voice. The sky is only  just  visible, darkening as the last few rays of the sun disappear.

It's ominous. It causes goosebumps to rise on him arms, and he  suddenly  feels too cold.  He didn't know how he hadn't noticed the sudden dip in temperature earlier, but now there's frost on the leaves beneath his toes .

The woods are  _powerful._

Changbin follows the path.

He doesn't think he really has much of a choice.

"Where are you taking me?"

_Somewhere where it'll make more sense. We can explain what you must do, and you can make your choice._

"My choice?"

Again, the leaves rustle. It fills Changbin with annoyance, the thought of being left out surprisingly painful. He doesn't like being left in the dark. He doesn't like not knowing. The same inescapable curiosity runs through his veins, sending electric sparks through his bones.

They walk in silence for a few more minutes. Changbin wasn't expecting a reply, but that doesn't mean it isn't disheartening. The only sound is the crunch of the leaves beneath his feet, too loud in the suffocating quiet. He almost feels the need to hold his breath, his every movement seeming deafening.

And then he forgets about the sound.

His breath catches in his throat anyway.

He's here.

In front of him, the woods opens up into a clearing. The night sky is finally visible above the tips of the trees, and it stretches out above him. Thousands upon thousands of tiny twinkling diamonds, set perfectly into the velvet blue sky. The universe twists around them, spiralling and looping through delicate galaxies.

Here, is The Woods.

And yet, at the same time, there's nothing. The stars hang in emptiness, flickering every few seconds to reveal an endless black expanse. There are no colours, no bright lights. Just darkness. It suffocates him, but with its reality. An void that surrounds him.

Nothing, except the woods.

"It's beautiful." He says, for a lack of anything more profound.

_Yes,_ the woods agrees,  _beautiful._

It is, and it takes Changbin a second to work out why the leaves sound so bitter. "It's not supposed to be like this."

_This place once had a parallel. A mirror, if you'd like. It was enough to equal the emptiness here, full of life so vibrant that it  was the reality itself._

"And what happened?"

There's a pause.  _It got lonely. It learnt of an existence elsewhere, somewhere that was equally as full of life, and couldn't resist the temptation. It created its own universe and tore itself away from here, abandoning what it didn't like, and creating itself a new set of realities._

It's a lot to take in, but Changbin knows that the leaves aren't finished. They're simply waiting for him to ask the right questions. "A new set?"

_A new mirror. Parallels of each other even more perfect that before. Equally balanced. It created life and filled these new realities with them. But the cost was too high, and it was destroyed. Leaving the universe..._ The leaves trail off trying to find the right word.

"Empty?"

_Not quite. It's still full of life, but the life is wrong. Unequal, dangerous. Each side is corrupt with longing for more._

Another pause.

_We call them Earth and Eden._

The names roll of Changbin's tongue without him even opening his mouth. They fit, slotting into place with the description he'd been given perfectly. But there's still something missing.

"How am I supposed to help?" He asks. From what he's heard, this seems impossible to fix. Surely, the universe will simply topple over, and though he's not sure what happens after that, he knows it cannot be good. But yet, he's still here. The Woods have a plan for him.

_It can be fixed. With one presence from each side, balance can be reached. A third side to equal it out. If what remains of our mirror can be found, and collected on this third side, it might just reach equilibrium._

A third side.

It's a strange thought. Mirrors only have two sides, Changbin knows that, and yet they're describing a third. A place between the realities. A pocket dimension, of sorts.

The leaves don't speak again, but Changbin wasn't expecting them to. He needs a few minutes to take this in, even if he'a slowly realising that he knew all of this already. Just to collect his thoughts, try and work out what they want him to do, and-

"You want me to collect them?"

_A third presence for a third reality._

They want him to create the universe. To navigate his way through the dimensions and unite it as one. Bring it back to balance, despite the knowledge that once it's complete he won't have a purpose anymore.

_We will not force you. But child, you have to act now. Time passes differently here._

"I don't have much of a choice," mutters Changbin, because he doesn't. This is his purpose. This is what he was created for. There's no questioning destiny when your maker is right in front of you. No denying fate if fate has already been denied from you.

He's sure that if he refuses, they'll just wish him out of existence.

The leaves don't reply. Maybe they didn't hear him. Or maybe they're choosing to not hear him.

Either way, the omniscient presence begins to fade away. The trees begin to straighten, the path behind him disappearing into foliage. Life drips from the sky like paint, fat droplets pooling on the ground around him. They're giving him privacy. Allowing him to create his pocket universe in peace.

And so he does.

He builds it up from the ground, piecing together every fragment of what The woods Instructed into tangible constructs. He links together their words, allowing the power to flood through his body until he's nothing more than a vessel for an unimaginable force.

Agony fills his veins. Molten gold instead of blood, his eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream. The sensation of warm envelopes him, from the tips of his fingertips to the soles of his feet. He can barely feel the leaves now. Just the electricity cracking around him, the pins in needles in his mind.

Somewhere, in his thoughts, are the fated three. He can see himself as one of them, a lone figure between two outlines. He latches onto the feeling, shaping his universe around their presence. The feeling of their souls next to his, opposite and equal from either sides of the mirror. They balance each other out in more ways than one, such a perfect equilibrium created that it takes Changbin's breath away.

Somehow, it feels right.

He already knows they exist, he can feel the faintest shiver of their emotions intertwined with his. Suddenly, his body is filled with an urge to leave his mission, to find his mirror-selves without any thought of The Woods.

He needs to find them.

Time and space rips around him. The realities, that were previously two reflections of a mirror, scream as a third side is added. The shape of the universe splits and bends, forming a twisted loop that takes him a second to place.

A möbius strip.

Earth.

Eden.

And-

The pain ends. All the power that had possessed his body seeps back into the soil beneath his feet. The Woods sighs as it's returned to the roots of the most ancient trees. The entrance to his reality shimmers in front of him. So delicate, that you wouldn't be able find it unless you knew exactly where to look.

The feeling of his mirror-selves' heartbeats fades, until it's just Changbin again. He feels empty, already missing the warmth of their souls pressed up against his. But his frenzied thoughts fade with them, bringing him back to rationality.

The third layer of reality-  _his_ layer of reality- is almost complete.

"There's just one thing..." says Changbin. His words trail off at the end, a half-finished sentence. They evaporate into what should be lifeless. The energy is gone, the words no more than trees and leaves. But Changbin knows they're listening. He could feel their help as his soul fractured, a hand on his shoulder as reality shattered.

They never left.

The leaves have never been much for curiosity, but they decide to humour the boy.

_What? What is it?_

"A name."

_A name?_

The Woods whisper amongst themselves, confused. What's the need for a name when the pocket dimension only exists in the space between realities? They've never had a name before, not beyond the literal description of the form which they exist in.

The Woods, as an endless strip of trees and leaves. Nothing more, nothing less, and now this child wants to give their creation a name? It's strange. Unheard of, even. But they can't see any harm in the act.

"You know what I mean. It's special, right? It's going to fix the universe. So it needs a name."

_What will you name it?_

Changbin smiles with teeth that are maybe slightly too sharp. The light glints off them, but in all, the woods can't help but think they did well for a first try. That despite all their worries, they were successful.

The child  _feels_.

It's more than they could ever dream of for themselves.

"The In-Between."  


 

  **EARTH**

 

The cat rolls over, exposing its belly. It stretches out, mouth open, exposing a row of sharp teeth. Yawning, it shifts its body into the patch of sunlight, the dust from its orange coat shimmering in the golden light. A tongue reaches out, tasting the warm air.

As it moves, a tiny paw knocks a tin can away. It sends it spiralling towards Minho's shoe, knocking against his trainer. Metal hits plastic. The sound rings out through the alley.

Minho freezes. He can't help it, the sound is entirely too loud. His breath catches in his throat, heart pounding, completely focused on hoping that-

The cat jumps up. The noise had scared it, sending it onto high alert. It spots Minho and labels him as dangerous, darting back down the alleyway. Disappearing behind a huge bin bag and into the darkness. Leaving him alone.

Minho sighs.

He picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder. He can't help but feel sorry for the animal, ever since he'd first seen it suffocating in the heat a few months ago, but it wants nothing to do with him. It can't stand the sight of him, despite his many attempts at trying to feed it. He's tried all the tricks in the book at this point, and is beginning to consider giving up.

There are plenty of other stray cats in this town.

And he should know.

It's not as if the ginger cat is the only one. He can't pass a single cat without pausing to pet it, or attempting to stroke it. Every animal down these alleys are used to his presence, and almost every cat recognises him as a friend. It wasn't easy, but it was worth it. There's just something about them that make his heart skip a beat. When he feels like his head is about to implode, it's the only thing that can calm him down.

His own cats (his beloved Soonie, Doongie and Dori, the apples of his eye, the lights in his life) must be getting jealous about how much time he spends with strays. Though he adores them, he can't help but spend his time chasing after street cats.

He knows every alley like the back of his hand.

Another sound pierces the air, and he sits back on his heels, sighing. It's his phone, vibrating with a new message, but he doesn't need to read it to know what it says.

Woojin.

Or Chan.

It doesn't matter which one of the self-proclaimed 'parents of the group' it is, because the message will be exactly the same.

_Minho, why aren't you in school?_

_Minho, you promised you'd try and make it in today._

_Minho, any more absences and you know they're going to suspend you._

The thought makes him grip his phone tighter, but it's still not enough to make him check the messages. If he does that, they'll know he's seen them, and then he can't lie about his phone being dead so he missed his alarm or something. The same excuse he's used hundreds of time. For the same situation thousands of times before.

They don't understand.

Every day he spends trapped in a classroom is another centimetre he's pushed closer to his tipping point. Every second makes his headache worse, until he feels physically sick. Every time that his precious routine is changed.

The teachers won't stop talking about exams. Firing endless questions at him about where he wants to go when he's left school, about what he wants to do when he's older. About how everything's going to change, how it's going to be amazing and different and-

He knows that their intentions are good, but can't they see?

He doesn't  _want_ change.

He wants to keep things how they are. With the same thing happening every day, the same hot weather that never seems to leave, the same age forever. Young and free, not having to worry about the future or money or any of the other suffocating worries that adults have.

He wants to stay here, under the heat of the sun, chasing after cats.

Forever.

In his heart, he knows it's stupid. That it's impossible, and he's ruining his chances by not attending school. If he gets any more absences, he'll be marked down as a delinquent. He'll have to transfer schools, bringing with it a whole new load of changes. New people, new classrooms, new friends.

He doesn't think he'd be able to deal with that.

But he can't go to school. He's tried, but he almost always ends up pressed against the wall in a bathroom cubicle. Tears streaming down his face, trying desperately to calm his breathing down. Or he simply can't even make himself get through the gates. It's like he blacks out, and suddenly he's back in the alleyways.

Maybe there's something wrong with him.

This isn't normal.

It's not right to be scared of change, not to this extent. He knows his friends worry about him, the constant pinging of his phone proves that, but he can't help but feel isolated. They don't understand, no matter how much they try.

And besides, they're all focused on their own problems.

His phone sounds again, and he pushes the button on the side down, banishing it into silence.

Not today.

He can't face it today.

But, he thinks, as he begins to try and find the cat again, there's always tomorrow.

 

———

 

"He's not picking up," says Chan, staring at his phone screen for a few seconds before raising it to his ear again.

Jeongin can't help but roll his eyes. One hand reaches out to poke at the vegetables on his plate. They'll remain uneaten. They always are. "Of course he's not picking up. He's Minho. He never picks up."

"That's not true!" protests Chan, even though it is true. He racks his brain for any time that Minho has even  _looked_ as his phone, before- "Remember last year? When he was too ill to get out of bed, he picked up then."

"That's because you were buying food for his cats. He probably thought there was some sort of emergency at the pet store."

Chan pouts. Jeongin is right, of course. He always is. He opens his mouth to retaliate, before noticing how Jeongin's playing with his food.

His plate is mostly untouched. The only reason why he has it is because it's prepaid, otherwise Chan is pretty sure he wouldn't have brought anything. He almost can't blame him for not wanting to eat the school's terrible food, but this is uncharacteristic.

Something's wrong.

When Chan speaks again, his voice is soft. "Innie? You okay?"

Jeongin looks up. There are rings under his eyes that are almost as bad as Chan's. He finally stops fiddling with his food, pushing the plate away and sighing.

"You're worried about Seungmin again, aren't you."

Jeongin glances back down again. Is he really that easy to read? Chan seemed to work out what was on his mind surprisingly quickly. It's slightly off-putting, considering Jeongin likes to consider himself a private person. He keeps a lot of things to himself, secrets that he'd rather take to the grave than tell another person.

No.

He can't be that easy to read.

Maybe it's just that Chan cares about him. He's one half of the parents of the group, after all. The glue that keeps them together.

And besides, he knows he isn't the only one worried about Seungmin.

"Yeah."

Chan grimaces. "He's been acting more and more distant recently." Without thinking, he turns his head to face the direction of the room Seungmin is currently in. The station where he's currently recharging his batteries. "He seems to get more sad everyday."

"Can androids get depressed?" says Jeongin, and it's only partly a joke. They can't of course, but nothing about Seungmin's actions make sense otherwise. Chan's right. He's become more withdrawn than ever, which is quite an achievement.

Though he still hangs round with them, it's like he's not actually there. He barely speaks, staying at the fringes of their conversations and keeping several steps behind them at all times. His eyes are always trained on the floor, and no matter how much Jeongin and Minho try to cheer him up, nothing works.

The only thing that ever seems to light up his glassy eyes are cassette tapes.

But it's a strange fascination that Jeongin doesn't understand. The actual music doesn't seem to hold any meaning to him, and he's never seen Seungmin listen to the same tape more than once. No, instead it's the moment right before the music actually begins. The second right before the tape begins to play, he seems to be... alive.

So different to his half-dead state the rest of the time.

And then, every single time, his face falls. The tape  is stopped  not even a minute in, and abandoned. The look of disappointment and confusion is impossible to replicate.  They're emotions so real that you could almost forget that Seungmin's nothing but wires and circuits .

Jeongin isn't quite sure what Seungmin expects, but he knows that never found it.

Chan doesn't reply. Instead, he pushes his own plate forwards. It joins Jeongin's, abandoned in the middle of the table.

"Chan?"

The older boy smiles. "I'm going to try and find Woojin. We  really  need to talk about Seungmin."

Jeongin nods. He smiles at Chan as he turns and walks away, beginning to pack his own things into his bag. He can't stay here any longer. The table is too quiet, now that everyone's gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, updating so quickly, when I could save this chapter for later in the week? 
> 
> a wild concept

 

**EARTH**

 

Jeongin stretches, and eyes the bench by the side of the shop. His legs are beginning to ache and he'd like to sit down, but the bench isn't shaded at all. The wooden frame would feel like it was on fire, and he'd like to keep his legs intact, thank you very much.

Instead, he leans against the wall of the shop, wincing when the bricks make contact with his bare skin.

Seungmin frowns. "You're going to wait?"

"Of course." Jeongin opens his eyes a centimetre, taking in how confused Seungmin looks. Like they don't do this routine every single day. "I always wait."

Seungmin doesn't reply, and Jeongin doesn't press him. He simply waits until the android has entered the shop, before closing his eyes again. It's too hot to keep them open. Too hot to do anything, really. His body feels like it's boiling inside his skin, to the extent that he wouldn't be surprised if someone cut him open and he was cooked.

"Boo," says a new voice.

Jeongin opens his eyes again. Very slowly, so the person who's disturbed him  _knows_ how much effort he's putting into the action. And then almost immediately gives up.

Minho stands in front of him, fanning himself with one hand. "It's way too hot to stand up," he says, looking at how Jeongin's melted against the wall, "Come on." He pulls him to the edge of the pavement, where the leaves of a nearby tree provide shade just wide enough that they can both shelter in it.

Sure, it's a bit strange to be almost in the road, but it's Minho, and Minho doesn't find anything strange. Besides, there are never any cars.

The shade isn't even that much cooler, but at least it gets the sun out of his eyes.

"Why weren't you in school today?"

Minho raises his eyebrows. "Wow, that's the first thing you're going to say?"

"Just answer the question."

Minho's absences stack up like pennies. A tower of counters that's beginning to lean more and more, closer to toppling over with each day that passes. Jeongin knows that he can't force Minho to talk, but he also knows that the issue needs to be addressed.

Chan and Woojin are too scared of hurting Minho to confront him. Jeongin isn't.

"You know I can't," says Minho. His eyes are trained somewhere on the ground, and he kicks at a dry leaf with his left foot.

"I know." He doesn't need to say any more than that. Minho will talk when he's ready. The atmosphere has soured, and so he grins. With one hand, he pushes the older boy into the road. Minho shrieks, immediately pushing himself back onto the pavement and shoving Jeongin back.

Normal.

Jeongin's phone vibrates against his leg, interrupting their play-fighting. He rolls his eyes, planning to ignore it, but Minho stops him.

"You should probably answer that," he says, "It might be Woojin or Chan. You should let them know where we are."

"That's rich, coming from you," says Jeongin, but he does anyway. Minho has a point, after all. He doesn't want to give the two oldest members of their friendship group any more grey hairs than they already have.

The name on the screen reads 'Woojin', accompanied by a horrifically cheesy picture of Woojin and Chan. It was taken last year, back when Chan had green hair, and the only reason why Jeongin puts up with the photo being so domestic is because it  _really_ wasn't a good look. He raises the phone to his ear, still smiling at the photo.

"Hey, Woojin."

Minho shoots him a look as if to say 'I told you so' but Jeongin ignores him. In his opinion, Minho doesn't deserve a say on this topic.

_"Jeongin, hey, you picked up."_

"Of course I did. I'm a good friend, unlike  _someone."_ That's accompanied by him sticking his tongue out, pulling a face whilst making direct eye contact. Minho snorts into his juice box.

There's silence on the other side of the phone for a second, before-  _"Is that Minho? Are you with Minho?"_

"Unfortunately."

There's another pause, " _He's there? But... then... Where else?"_

"Woojin? You alright?" Jeongin gestures at Minho to shut up by violently drawing a line over his own throat. Something seems off. It's not like Woojin ring up and ask so many questions.

 _"Yeah, I'm fine."_ And he certainly doesn't sound fine. Something is definitely off.  _"Jeongin, have you seen Chan? He called me about an hour ago to say he'd meet me in five, but..."_

Jeongin frowns. Minho has thankfully stopped laughing now, and is trying to make out what Woojin's saying. He can just about hear it, Jeongin guesses, from the way he mouths 'Chan?' and then shrugs.

He pulls the phone away from his ear for a second.

"Have you seen Chan?" he asks, despite Minho's shrug having already given him his answer.

"Nope. I didn't get to school today, remember? You're the first person I've seen all day."

"I suppose..." Jeongin's words trail off. He was hoping that Minho had seen the older boy. There's a bad feeling in his stomach, slowly making its way through his veins. Surely it's nothing, but still...

"Sorry, we haven't. The last time I saw him was when he was leaving lunch. That must of been right before he called you, so that's not much help."

Woojin sighs. The static of the phone distorts the sound, making it almost painful to hear.  _"Okay. Sorry to bother you. I just didn't- well, he probably got distracted, that's all."_

"You know how Chan is," says Jeongin, "He might even be looking for Minho, since he doesn't know he's here."

" _Yeah. Okay, yeah."_ Jeongin can practically hear Woojin convince himself that it's fine. His breathing has calmed down, and his words are less shaky. " _He worries too much. Yeah. Thanks, Jeongin."_

The phone goes dead.

"What was that all about?" Asks Minho. His juice box is empty now. The end of the straw is covered in bite marks, chewed until it's almost unrecognisable.

Jeongin is about to reply when the door of the shop swings open again. Seungmin steps out, a tiny paper bag clutched in his hand. The silhouette of yet another cassette is just about visible, and Jeongin has to tear his eyes away. At this point, he doesn't know why Seungmin keeps buying them. He only ever ends up disappointed.

Seungmin frowns. "Why are you sitting on the floor?"

"Shade," is all that Minho replies, before jumping onto his feet and pulling Jeongin up. "Right. Who wants to see if we can find somewhere cooler?"

Cooler.

It sounds orgasmic. Despite their tiny patch of shade, it really didn't do much against the heat of the sun. Even the gravel pavements are boiling, and Jeongin wouldn't be surprised if they've burnt a hole in the back of his shorts. He can practically feel the skin of his legs crisping up at this point.

"Yes  _please,_ " he replies. The phone, and its last call, lie forgotten in his pocket.

 

 

**EDEN**

 

The table is full of food. Meals that he's never seen before, much more than could ever feed four people. That should be a good thing, especially since Felix is incredibly hungry. He feels like he could demolish at least half of the table at this point. Except he's not even allowed to take one bite, because there's no one else there.

And there are rules to follow.

_Do not start eating without everyone else._

The rules are written on a sheet of paper. Each word is carefully inked out in what looks like fountain pen. Each letter loops around delicately. The sheet of paper is currently located on the front of the fridge on the second floor, but there are no guarantees it will stay there.

It's in a new location every time they wake up.

Felix doesn't know where the rules came from. He doesn't know what they mean, or what happens if they're broken. But he knows that whoever, that  _what_ ever, put them there is watching them. Because someone has to move them.

He knows it's not one of the house's four inhabitants, because they all hate the rules with a passion. To the extent where the piece of paper was destroyed as soon as it was found. It was ripped up, burnt, thrown as far outside of the gates as they could manage, even made into paper mache on one memorable occasion.

But it did nothing.

They're still just as forbidden to leave as they were before, and eventually a new rule was added that said  _'destruction of this paper is prohibited'._

Every time they think they might have the  _slightest_ bit of freedom, new rules are added.

Felix sighs. Picks up the nearest piece of cutlery and begins to drum it against the table. He doesn't care that the fork is probably silver, and that the table is some kind of expensive hardwood. There's no one there to tell him to stop, since no one cares.

They're all too busy with their own lives, too busy complaining about the fact they can't leave to ever stop and wonder  _why._

It's been like this since the beginning. He can't quite remember when that was, but he knows he's been here since his memory began. If he thinks back far enough, he can even remember a time where they all got along. Before the endless fights, and Felix was suddenly the designated mediator.

He sighs again,  _so_ close to just taking a bite of the meal nearest to him, when the door opens.

Jisung walks in.

Felix smiles at him, already wary about how heavy his footsteps are. Jisung smiles back, but it's obviously forced. In this light, the dark circles beneath his eyes are even more prominent. Felix can't help but wonder what he spends his time doing, why he can't sleep. He wonders what Jisung doesn't tell him.

They used to be so close.

"How are you?" He eventually asks, when they've sat in silence for far too long. Any conversation, no matter how awkward, is better that staring longingly at the food in front of them.

"Fine."

"Do anything interesting recently?"

Jisung looks up, making eye contact with Felix. His eyes are glassy, the rings around them making his skin seem deathly pale, and Felix can't help but think he looks exhausted. "What do you think?"

Felix doesn't have a reply for that.

It's true. He doesn't know what he was expecting Jisung to say, when they're all trapped in the same place. When the same thing happens every single day.

The door swings open again. Felix and Jisung both look up, eager for something to break the awkward silence they've fallen into. It takes them a second too long to remember that it's going to be one of two people, and that they're both as bad as each other.

Either way, Felix really hopes that it isn't Hyunjin.

Jisung, who's sitting further down the table that Felix sees who it it first. He immediately looks down at the table, hands balled into fists. For a second, he looks like he's about to get up and leave, but decides against it.

Ah.

It's Hyunjin then.

Hyunjin lets the door close behind him. He doesn't bother to shut it himself in typical Hyunjin fashion, simply letting it slam. The sound echoes through the mostly empty room, and Felix can already see Jisung beginning to twitch with anger.

"Hyunjin," says Felix, dipping his head as a way of greeting. He smiles at the older boy when he copies the action. There is a peace to be kept after all. His life is bad enough already without having to deal with Jisung and Hyunjin fighting again.

He pulls up a chair, closer to Felix than Jisung but there are no surprises there, and sits down. His hair is messy, Felix can't help but notice. Usually it's styled in whatever he's decided the latest fashion is, but today it's like he's just woken up.

"Where've you been?" Jisung doesn't waste time with any niceties. His words are harsh, getting straight to the point. He leans forwards, looking pointedly at Hyunjin's trousers. Felix frowns, trying to see what he's referring to.

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come on. You're not fooling anyone."

Now Felix is really lost. "What do you mean?" He asks, when Hyunjin doesn't reply.

Jisung scoffs, not surprised that Hyunjin had stayed quiet. "Look at his trousers. They're covered in mud." He doesn't even give Felix a chance to see what he's talking about before turning back to face Hyunjin, "Where've you been?"

Hyunjin smirks. He leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the table in a way that's sure to infuriate Jisung. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The actions allows Felix to finally see what Jisung's so mad about. The bottom of Hyunjin's trousers are coated in a thick brown substance. It reaches up, painting the fabric dark well up to his calves. Parts are already beginning to dry and flake off, and there are even a few leaves pressed into his shoes.

It's mud.

It has to be. There's nothing else that Felix can think of that fits that description, but how is it possible? How's Hyunjin managed to get  _mud_ on his trousers when they're not allowed to leave the house? It doesn't make any sense, but it's the only explanation.

"Did you find a way out?" Jisung's eyes are alight with a fury Felix has only ever seen a few times before. His face is becoming rosy as he gets more and more angry. "You  _dickhead._ Tell me!"

The legs of Hyunjin's chair snap back onto the ground with a crack. The slightest bit of hurt flashes across his face. Felix needs to do something to stop this fight, as soon as possible. Hyunjin is sensitive, despite not seeming it, and Jisung's harsh language has hurt his feelings.

Felix knows what'll happen if he doesn't do anything.

Hyunjin will only retreat into his arrogant facade, using it as a protection from the only person who could never see past it, Jisung.

There's a lapse in their argument as Hyunjin tries desperately to compose himself, searching for the right words. Felix takes the opportunity to change the subject.

"Where's-" He starts to ask, but Hyunjin's already rolling his eyes.

"How would I know?" He says, leaning back on his chair again. It tilts back further than before, revealing even more stains on the legs of his trousers, which only makes Jisung more mad.

"He's your lap-dog," bites Jisung, leaning forwards to glare at the older boy, "Maybe if you whistle he'll come and lick your shoes clean for you."

Hyunjin slams his hands onto the table. "Take that back.

Jisung smiles. He knows he's hit a nerve, and will now do everything in his power to exploit it. "Or what?"

" _Take it back._ "

"Tell me where you were and I'll think about it."

"Sorry," a new voice says. All three of them look up, not even having realised that the door had opened again. His entrance distracts Hyunjin, letting the fight become forgotten. "I was distracted. I didn't realise that you were waiting." He takes the chair next to Hyunjin's. There are no surprises there, either. It's the same seats they always sit in.

Jisung rolls his eyes. "Sure. It's not as if we're here at the same time every day or anything."

"Leave him alone," says Hyunjin, but all the aggression from before has gone. Now that they're all here, their attention is on the food. There's no energy left to waste on fighting when they're finally allowed to eat.

Felix smiles at the new arrival. In all honesty, they're the only two in the house that actually seem sane. They have similar interests, not particularly concerned with fighting like Hyunjin and Jisung. They get on well, even if he does tend to follow Hyunjin around like a shadow.

"How have you been?" Felix asks. Maybe his attempt at conversation won't fall flat this time.

"Great," says Seungmin, "I found another cassette. It might be my favourite song yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to see what i imagined eden to look like, i recommend love4eva by loona yyxy as that's what this is based on
> 
> and now that i've finally got the introductions over, let the plot commence!
> 
> aka everything is going to go downhill for them very, very quickly


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick explanation into hyunjin:  
> I didn't do his character justice here (WHY IS HE SO HARD TO WRITE), so you have to imagine I give a really good description through his actions showing he's just really oblivious

 

**EDEN**

 

"Hyunjin?"

Hyunjin freezes, his heart in his mouth, as Seungmin's footsteps get closer. He walks right past the curtain Hyunjin is currently hidden behind. Then he sighs and moves on. A door closes in the distance, and Hyunjin lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

Okay, maybe it's a bit mean.

He usually doesn't mind Seungmin trailing after him like a lovesick puppy, and he could easily tell the younger that he would like a bit of time alone. There's no need for him to be hiding behind an ancient curtain that hasn't been washed for decades.

But whenever he approaches Seungmin, the younger boy does...  _something_ with his eyes that make Hyunjin give him whatever he wants. There's a certain face, one that makes him look more like a puppy than ever. His eyes sparkle, his mouth pouts, and his metaphorical ears hang limply either side of his face.

So maybe it's only the concept of refusing Seungmin something that's easy. In practice, Hyunjin's pretty sure that Seungmin's eyes are his one fatal weakness.

He rubs at his nose, waiting for a few more seconds just to be safe. The curtain is heavy, the kind of fabric that feels like it's been tied down with weights. Every time it moves he gets a face-full of dust, and it's getting progressively harder to breathe. The sunlight from the window is burning his back until it's too painful to stand still, but every time he moves the dust cloud gets stronger.

Realistically, it was never going to be a good hiding place, but Hyunjin's not known for his good decisions.

From outside the room he's hidden himself in, Seungmin's footsteps walk past. They're still far away at the moment, but there's no guarantee that he won't come back. Seungmin is nothing if not incredibly methodical. At some point he'll realise that the curtain has never been shut before.

Either that, or Hyunjin is going to sneeze.

He has to move.

A door shuts in the distance, and Hyunjin can just about make out Felix's voice through the thin walls. There's a puse between when he speaks and Seungmin's reply, and Hyunjin thanks every god up there for this luck. Felix is making conversation with Seungmin, and considering Seungmin can complain to the freckled boy for _hours,_ this is his chance. If they're distracted for long enough, he might be able to find a better hiding place.

He pulls the curtain across slowly, careful that the rail doesn't make too much noise. His lungs almost immediately fill with dust, but he keeps his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. He can't afford to cough. Not now.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way out of the door on the other side of the room. His footsteps are light on the floor, and he makes sure he sticks to the carpet. The woollen material muffles the sound of the heels of his shoes against the hard floorboards, effectively making him silent.

Once he's safely a few rooms away from Seungmin, he lets out a breath.

Right.

He made it.

He's safe now, as long as he can find a better hiding place that Seungmin's never going to fi-

Suddenly, he realises where he is, and why he didn't try to escape through here the first time he hid from Seungmin. The room is big. It's made from stone, like the rest of the house, but the walls have been covered with various pieces of fabric. Some of the stones are painted with colours so bright that he can't tear his eyes away. They practically glow in the darkened lighting, and where the sunlight does stream through the open window, it illuminates every careful stroke.

This is one of Jisung's rooms. 

Right after their first fight, the one that had ruined any sort of friendship they'd ever had, they decided it was better to stay out of each other's way. The problem had been no boundaries, the fact that there was a whole house with little to no rules. They were just children then, and at first they were scared to be alone in a building that seemed to stretch on for miles, but after a while it had become suffocating. Eventually, they'd each chosen a few rooms, keeping them somewhere that they could be alone. 

It was an unspoken rule that no one was allowed into someone else's without permission. They didn't need a piece of paper to tell them what the consequences would be if they did.

Hyunjin mostly used his to cry, in the beginning.

But soon enough the few rooms he'd chosen had become his one solace. Somewhere he could go to free his mind, to scream as loud as he could. He'd stolen most of the mirrors to create a make-shift dance studio, poured his heart and soul into his creation until it was so undeniably him.

And this was undeniably Jisung.

One of Hyunjin's hands reaches out, brushing one of the paintings with the tips of his fingers. He can't tell what it's made from, but it's beautiful. Every colour imaginable. He can't help but feel guilty for being here, for intruding on Jisung's privacy like this, but he can't tear his eyes away.

There's a sound from somewhere a few rooms to his right.

For a second, Hyunjin thinks it's Seungmin. There's a second of panic, looking around the room is desperation for another exit, before remembering where he is. He'll be fine, because Seungmin will never think to look for him here. He'll give Jisung's rooms a wide berth, thinking Hyunjin would rather die than trespass.

Which under most circumstances he would, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and-

All at once, he realises three things. That Seungmin would be coming from his left whilst the noise is on his rihght, that the sound is getting closer, and that he can very clearly hear Jisung muttering to himself.

This is bad.

This is very, very bad.

He scans the room for somewhere to hide. The curtains are open, immediately ruling out his go-to spot, because Jisung is very much going to notice if they've been moved. The rest of the room is pretty empty, the furniture must have been moved to make space for more paintings. All that remains is a chest of drawers, a desk piled high with art supplies, and a large wardrobe.

He doesn't really have a choice.

Launching himself into the wardrobe, he pulls the door shut, flinching when the sound echoes through the wooden box he's locked himself in. His body stays frozen for a few seconds, muscles so tense that they begin to scream in agony. But he can't move, not until he knows that Jisung has left.

Which doesn't sound like it's going to be any time soon.

Hyunjin presses his ear to the cold wood, trying to make out his footsteps, only to realise that Jisung has started to paint. The soft sweeping sound of the brush against the stone is unmistakable, no matter how faint it is.

Hyunjin is trapped. There's no point dancing around the fact. If he wants to leave this room alive, he'll have to wait until Jisung leaves.

Resigned to his fate, he slides down the back of the wood, finally allowing himself to relax and take in his surroundings. The wardrobe is deeper than he thought it was, almost wide enough for him to sit comfortably with his legs crossed. It's too dark to see any of the items of clothes hanging above his head, but they're much too small to belong to Jisung, and covered with a thick layer of dust.

He wonders whose they were, once upon a time. They're small enough to fit a child, but there haven't been any children in the house since... well, since forever. He wonders if Jisung even knows that they're here.

Either way, the dust shows that the wardrobe hasn't been opened for a while. Considering Jisung's hardly going to break his routine, Hyunjin reckons he's safe, as long as he can stay silent.

After a while, his position begins to get uncomfortable. He stretches one leg out in an attempt to free his muscles from the cramps beginning to settle in, only to find his foot brushes against something.

It's not the wall of the wardrobe. It's completely the wrong shape for that, and now that his eyes have adjusted to the darkness he can just about make out a tiny round object sitting in the corner. He immediately reaches for it, curiously piqued.

An apple?

It has to be. He can dig his fingernails into the fruit and feel the skin break underneath them. The wardrobe fills with its sickly sweet scent. The aroma is beginning to make him feel giddy, but he can't put it down. Something about it captivates him, drawing all his attention to the fruit in his hand until it's the only thing he can think about.

He forgets about Jisung.

He forgets about the child's clothes.

He forgets about Seungmin, who's probably still searching for him.

The apple makes him forget. He raises it to his mouth, ready to take a bite. Despite the fact he doesn't know where it's from, why it's in the back of an ancient wardrobe, that it's still impossibly ripe.

There's a voice in his head that isn't his own.  _If you take a bite,_ it says,  _you can leave. You won't return the same, but you can leave. You can be free._

Hyunjin pauses. His grip around the apple tightens, his front teeth barely scraping the skin of the fruit.

He can leave?

If he bites the apple, he can leave?

The words about him not returning the same are forgotten. He doesn't care. He's willing to pay the price, whatever it is, and he's willing to pay it now. He's  _dreamt_ about leaving for so long, about breaking out from this useless monotony and being free. There's got to be more than this, there  _has_ to be. The sickening stench of the apple is drowned out by the giddy aroma of freedom. And he's willing to do anything to feel it.

He bites down.

It's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

 

**EARTH**

 

The empty windows in Chan's house stare back at him. They look like wide unblinking eyes in the strange lighting, and the sun glinting of the glass almost makes it seem like they're following him.

The curtains are pulled tightly shut in every single room except one. In the top right of the house, the room there is clearly visible even from the street, displaying its contents to everyone who walks past. It's empty, and Woojin really would be thankful for that if it hadn't been his last hope.

It's Chan's room.

And he isn't there.

The room is completely empty aside from a bed and a desk. Woojin knows the layout of the room like the back of his hand- he knows that there's nowhere that Chan could be that isn't visible from the street. One empty room amongst the darkness of the rest.

His finger hovers over Chan's contact on his phone. He's so close to pressing down, trying one last time, but he knows there's no point. It'll just be like the other thirty times he's called. But there's really nothing else he can think of. No other explanation, and he finds himself pushing the button anyway, hoping against hope that  _please, oh please-_

The phone rings for a few seconds.

A distant voice declares that the number is currently offline.

Static crackles, growing ever louder until he's forced to pull the machine from his ear and hang up.

This isn't right.

It's not like Chan to disappear without telling anyone. Sure, he's always had a bad habit of losing track of time and overworking himself to a point of pure exhaustion, but this... This is different. Chan gets distracted by a lot of things. He's always late because he couldn't get a line in his latest song quite right. He's collapsed from working too hard more than a few times.

But he's never stood Woojin up before.

He's never not answered his phone for over twelve hours.

He's never not been in one of three places.

This isn't right.

And to make matters worse, he can't get what Jeongin said out of his head. The words echo in his mind, making it impossible to concentrate on anything else until his worry consumes him. Where could he possible have gone?

It just doesn't make sense.

Woojin stares into the window for so long, completely lost in his thoughts. He's so distracted that he doesn't notice the people arriving beside him until there's a hand on his shoulder.

"Woojin?" Jeongin asks, concern lacing his voice, "Are you okay?"

Woojin slides the phone back into his pocket. Far away from temptation, from that blank screen staring back at him as the number of missed calls to Chan add up. Jeongin stares back at him, making sure he puts it away. He's got his bag slung over one shoulder, obviously ready to go to school.

And yet it's past 9:00.

He's already late, because Jeongin lives on the other side of town from Chan's house. He'd walked right past his lessons just because Woojin had asked him to come. And since Jeongin and Seungmin seem inseparable these days, he's not surprised that the android is here as well.

And Minho. He hadn't called Minho, knowing the other boy's hatred for picking up his phone, but simply sent him a text message and hoped he'd see it. He's got his school bag as well, for some unknown reason, since Woojin knows there was no chance that he was actually planning in going to school.

But they're all here.

Woojin lets out a sigh, before turning to Jeongin and plastering a smile onto his face. "I'm fine. Just... a bit stressed, that's all."

"That's all?" Honestly, Woojin shouldn't be surprised that Minho sees right through him. He doesn't say anymore, but he doesn't need to. He knows Woojin is going to tell them anyway.

"I'm worried about Chan. It's not like him to disappear without telling any of us, and now he's not answering his phone so I don't know  _where_ he could be-"

He doesn't realise he's rambling until Jeongin puts a calming hand on his shoulder, "Hey-  _hey._ Calm down, okay?"

"We'll find him," says Minho, already beginning to search through his bag, "Who needs school anyway?"

Woojin smiles again. It's faint, but it's real and that's all that matters. "Why am I not surprised that it's you saying that?"

Minho shrugs. He pulls an ancient looking map of the town - and who knows why he had it in the first place -from his bag and smoothes it out. "Because I'm a fountain of good advice? Look, if we start searching now we can cover the whole town by nightfall."

"It'll be okay," says Seungmin in his weird dead voice. There's no natural infliction on any of the letters, but Woojin can tell he's trying hard to sound more normal. His smile is awkward, but it's the first time he's seen Seungmin smile in a while and that's all that matters.

They're right.

It'll be okay.

It has to be.

 

**EARTH**

 

"Well, he's not here."

Minho raises his eyebrows, one arm resting behind his head and the other holding a strawberry yogurt drink, which he slurps obnoxiously between words. "I think we already knew that."

Seungmin can't help but agree more, though he'd never say it out loud. They've been at the very edge of town for at least an hour already. Considering it's an area that only has about three shops, that's quite impressive.

It's also the last place on their 'Look for Chan' checklist.

And as Jeongin so eloquently put it, he's not here.

"Just one more time," says Woojin. Stress lines are etched onto his face so deep that Seungmin fears they'll never come out. "He has to be here. We must have missed him."

Minho screws his face up, obviously regretting how insensitive his earlier comment was. "Maybe. But you know that's unlikely." He throws his empty drink carton into the trash in one sweeping move. It goes in first time, and Seungmin can't help but think that he'd probably be impressed if he felt emotions.

"We must have missed him." Woojin repeats himself, this time sounding even more lost than last time, and Jeongin flinches.

"We can look aga-" he starts to offer, glancing at Minho. Probably hoping he jumps in and says something, stopping Woojin from dragging them through every shop a third time. Seungmin doesn't know why Jeongin doesn't just tell Woojin himself.

Minho sighs. "He might have gone back to somewhere we've already checked. It might be a good idea to go back and make sure we haven't walked right past him."

Woojin's face brightens so quickly that it's almost painful to watch. "You're right," he says, and he smiles at Minho like he's never seen the younger before. It's strange. And yet, Seungmin thinks this whole situation is strange.

He doesn't quite understand the relationship between Chan and Woojin, but he didn't expect to. 

He doesn't think he'll ever understand love.

It's probably a good thing that he can never experience it himself.

He sits up, finally realising that the rest of the group are about to leave. They hadn't noticed that they'd almost left him behind, but he doesn't blame them. They do have a lot on their minds, after all. He can't expect them to remember him all the time, not when there are much more important things happening.

As he moves to catch them up, something catches his eye.

A flash of movement as a boy leaves the shop Woojin and Jeongin were in before. He's got a huge smile on his face, and a stripy paper in his hand. Even from this distance, Seungmin can make out the distinctive shape of a cassette tape through the flimsy paper. 

He can't help but look surprised. He didn't know that anyone else was interested in cassette tapes in this town. Though, now that he thinks about it, he's never seen the boy at school before. He's not from here.

The boy's face turns to the side as he leaves, walking in the oposite direction. Seungmin's lungs empty of air. For a second, he panics, thinking his batteries are about to run out. Then he realises that the feeling seeping through his wires is one he remembers. The boy is hauntingly familiar.

He's seen him before.

He knows him.

He's sure of it.

Seungmin is just about to call after him when he realises Minho is standing by his side. "Who's that?" He asks, and when Seungmin doesn't answer, says, "It doesn't matter. Come on, we're leaving."

The boy gets further and further away, but he doesn't leave Seungmin's thoughts for a single second.

**EDEN**

"He's avoiding me. I know it."

Felix frowns at Seungmin. He threads another bead onto the bracelet he's making, pulling the string tight around it. They've made so many that he doesn't need to look down to know what he's doing. His hands work by themselves, leaving his brain free to work out why Seungmin looks so sad. "Why's that?"

"He never seems to want to talk." Seungmin's bracelet is a disaster. The knots are ugly and misshapen, and the colour scheme was abandoned three beads in. It's possibly the worst he's made since they began, all those years ago.

His fingers are shaking to much to tie them properly. He doesn't know why, but he can't stop the movement. The bracelet seems to stare back at him mockingly. Each imperfection in the detail reminds him of how much of a failure he is.

That Hyunjin will never love him back.

Felix puts his hand over Seungmin's. There's no point continuing with the bracelets if they're not in the right mindset. Seungmin just needs to try and calm down. Felix slips into the role of comforter so easily that you could almost think he enjoyed it.

He just has to try and figure out why he's so worked up.

"Maybe he just wants some time alone? Him and Jisung have been getting in more fights recently, so maybe he's trying to calm himself down."

Seungmin sighs, throwing the bracelet down onto the table and abandoning it. It clatters to the floor, but he doesn't go to pick it up. Instead, he buries his head in his hands. "But why can't he just tell me that? Instead of avoiding me?"

"You know how Hyunjin gets, Minnie."

"Oblivious to everything except himself." Seungmin knows the words off by heart. Felix has told him them so many times in various attempts to get him to feel better. But he can't help getting frustrated. "He's so tied up in his own little world that he doesn't notice anyone else."

Doesn't notice  _him._

"I wish he'd tell me where he was going, though. It feels like he's keeping some sort of secret from me."

Felix raises his eyebrows. He's never been particularly good at comforting people, but he's been forced into this role. Maybe, he'd like someone to listen to him for once. To pay attention to his problems, instead of him endlessly chasing after everyone else. "Maybe he is."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe he is keeping a secret from you."

It's a wild thought, but it somehow makes sense to Seungmin. He know's he's not the best at observing people, often too distracted by his cassette tapes and Hyunjin to notice much else, so it is a possibility. Something in the house may have changed, and Hyunjin doesn't want anyone else to find out. Or maybe...

Seungmin casts his mind back to the mud that seems ever present on Hyunjin's shoes.

Maybe he's found a way out.

It's a long shot, but Seungmin doesn't doubt Hyunjin's curiosity. It would make sense, but then why hadn't he told the rest of them? It was awfully Hyunjin to keep something so important to himself.

Either way, Seungmin can't let this go on any longer. Whatever Hyunjin's secret is, it's not going to stay a secret for much longer. He's going to find out what it is, and he's going to confront him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this and the next chapter were supposed to be one, but i decided it would work better if they were separate
> 
> so now you have to deal with this being strangely short
> 
> on another note!!! thank you for over 60 kudos and 600 reads!!!! please leave a comment if you enjoyed it, i love seeing what people think!!!!

  

 

**EARTH**

 

It's warm. As soon as Hyunjin steps out into-  _Earth-_ he notices that it's warm. The air hangs thick and heavy, pressing down onto his skin. His clothes are already beginning to feel too heavy, clinging to his arms. It's sticky and fills his lungs like damp cotton wool, but he can't help the grin that splits his face in two.

It feels amazing.

The contrast between here and the crisp air of-  _Eden-_ is practically tangible.

He's so taken aback the feeling of warmth surrounding him that it takes him a few seconds to realise that he did  _not_ know the names of the two worlds before.

Earth.

Eden.

Names that had simply appeared in his mind. He hadn't had to search for them- they'd simply been there. If he didn't know better, he'd think that they'd always been there.

He doesn't worry too much about it, though.

Hyunjin takes another step forwards. He can feel the warmth of the concrete even through his trainers, burning the soles of his feet. The sun beating down is already beginning to make his skin tingle.

The  _sun._

Eden is always cloudy. It's cold, frost sparkling on the grass just outside the huge iron gates. Mist swirls through the turrets of the house, clouding the windows with smeared condensation. Fingerprints ingrained on the glass from how long Hyunjin's spent staring into the endless woods.

Eventually, the original novelty of the feeling begins to wear off. His skin is starting to ache, so he takes a few steps to the left and begins to walk in the shade. It's still warm, but not unbearable, and he decides he likes it. The leaves from the bordering trees reach out and brush his hands. They're soft, tickling his palms and with feather-light kisses.

Beautiful.

His feet take him past a park. There's no hesitation from when he sees it to him immediately leaping over the fence and throwing himself down a slide. The metal is hot, burning through his trousers, and the grass leaves mud stains on his shoes despite the ground having cracked in the blistering heat.

He drags his feet across the ground as he  _soars_ into the air on a swing. His hands warp around the rusty chains, ignoring how they paint his palms orange. Great chunks of colour flake off under his fingernails, but he simply watches them fall the the ground. They begin to pile up next to his trainers, and he gently nudges it with one foot. It disintegrates under his touch, leaving only the faintest remnants of sunset under his toes.

The park is beacon of light.

It feels like warmth, and Hyunjin can almost imagine what it must look like when it's full of people.

Maybe one day he'll see it.

Because now- now he has a way to leave Eden. He can leave any time he wants and feel the breeze through his hair, go  _wherever he wants._

And yet there's something missing.

The fence around the park seems to cage him inside, and with a sickening jolt he realises that he can't stay trapped between the iron railings anymore. There's an entire world out there- he can't spend his time behind yet another wall.

He has to leave.

There's no aim to his walking. It's simply random turns down streets that take his fancy for the most bizarre reasons. A pretty flower in the middle of a dried-up lawn, a house with only one set of curtains open, a cat staring at him with huge eyes from where it's perched on top of a dumpster.

He revels in the sensation of being free. The knowledge that wherever he goes is because he  _wants_ to go there. There are no walls, no gates, no boundaries or limits. He only vaguely knows the way back to Eden, but that doesn't matter.

And then he finds the shop.

It's actually one of three, but the other two don't interest him. They're too dull, to similar to the walls which he grew up within. One's items are too tacky to look at for more than five seconds, and the other appears to be some sort of grocery store. He doesn't care much for either, so it's no surprise that he walks right past them.

The third seems to call out to him.

It's just the right kind of strange, a huge neon sign decorating the wall of the store despite it only facing an endless expanse of forest. The items in the window  _move,_ Hyunjin realises as he looks closer. There's a tiny motorised steam train waving its way through piles of ancient objects each covered in a layer of dust.

There's even the faint sound of music coming from inside. It's a song he's never heard before- not one of Seungmin's overplayed melodies that seem to echo in every room of the house. It's new, and it's exciting, and he's so amazed by it that he almost walks straight into a boy standing outside.

Hyunjin almost trips over but something manages to catch him just in time. The boy who he'd just crashed into raises his eyebrows as he slurps on some sort of milkshake slightly more obnoxiously than before, one hand around Hyunjin's wrist. "You okay?"

Hyunjin nods. He quickly thanks the boy, but his mind is already a million miles away. In one swift motion, he pushes the door to the shop open and steps inside.

His jaw drops.

If he thought the outside was amazing, the interior is on a completely different level. The walls are lined with shelves, each packed with various objects that he's never seen the likes of before. Tiny glass orbs that swirl with glitter when he shakes them. There's a section filled entirely with different lightbulbs, each one pulsing with a soft glow. He even finds the source of the music, a disk spinning on some sort of device with a needle. He almost goes to touch it, but one of the two other boys in the store gives him a weird look, so he doesn't.

It's there, next to the music player, that he sees the cassettes.

They're stacked upon each other in towers so high they look like they could topple at any second. Each case is decorated with bright colours, smiling faces of various singers grinning back at him from within the cheap plastic. He's never seen anything like it before.

Seungmin would love them.

His hands are shaking as he picks one up. He's so afraid that he could break it that he almost cradles the plastic packaging between his palms. It's so light, and yet so fragile.

"Do you like it?"

Hyunjin spins round, clutching the cassette to his chest. Beside him is an old man, the owner of the shop. He's pointing at the cassette between Hyunjin's hands, raising his eyebrows at how carefully the boy is holding it.

"I guess."

The old man raises his eyebrows at the comment, obviously not expecting the contrast of the words to the actions. Hyunjin quickly goes to explain himself, "I mean- it's not really my thing. It's for my friend. He's obsessed with them."

"Well, you better take it for him then." He plucks the cassette from Hyunjin's hands and gestures for the boy to follow him. They make their way to the front of the shop just as the two other boys leave.

"What do you mean?"

The man smiles. He takes a paper bag from underneath the counter and slides the tape in after peeling off a sticker with numbers on it. "You obviously care for him, since you handled it with such care. He's obviously someone special to you."

Hyunjin had never thought about it like that before. Sure, him and Seungmin were close, but wasn't that normal? He'd always known that Seungmin treated him differently to the others, but had always put it down to them being such great friends.

Suddenly, Jisung's insults made three times more sense.

His mouth fell open to a tiny 'o' shape. The man only smiled, sliding the paper bag across the counter and patting Hyunjin on the shoulder. "It's okay. I'm sure he'll love it."

"Thank you." Hyunjin eventually manages to stutter out. He takes the bag and bows deeply, before exiting the shop. The paper crinkles between his fingers, and he relishes the feeling. But his mind is still a million miles away.

Seungmin... likes him?

And does he like Seungmin back?

He's never been good at recognising feelings, so could the bubbles in his chest be a crush? The butterflies that swarm in his stomach, the desire to get away from Seungmin because his cheeks burn whenever the younger boy gets too close.

He doesn't knows.

The walk back to the place he stepped through seems to be over too quickly. He barely pays any attention to his surroundings as he makes his way back to the house. They blend into an endless pavement leading to a huge field, until he closes his eyes and-

Suddenly he's sitting back in the wardrobe.

His legs ache with cramps, his neck sore from where it's been resting against the wood. He shifts his weight, and pins and needles erupt down his left side. The apple lies in his lap abandoned, and his eyes are heavy with sleep.

It would be so easy to dismiss the experience.

To write it off as nothing more than a dream, and never think about it again.

But the apple in his lap has a bite taken out of it. He runs his finger across the ridge, ghosting over the indents left by his teeth. The flesh of the fruit is still damp, still fresh.

It was real.

It was all real.

Jisung's long gone by now, but Hyunjin still opens the door carefully. There's no need- Jisung doesn't know the meaning of being quiet, even when he's alone- but he's still paranoid. He can't risk letting anyone else know about the apple, not yet. It's his secret for now.

As he climbs out, shifting his aching limbs and letting blood finally reach his toes, his right hand brushes against something.

A paper bag.

It's small, but the outline of the cassette is clearly visible and he could recognise the stripes of the bag anywhere. It's the tape he bought from the shop, the one for Seungmin.

There's no time give it to him now. A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells him he's already late to eat, so he stuffs it into his pocket praying the paper won't rip, and wanders down to the meal hall.

Just as he expected, Felix and Jisung are already there. Jisung spots him immediately, balling his hands into fists and glaring at the table. Hyunjin couldn't care less what the younger thinks of him, but he can't deny that his actions hurt.

"Hyunjin," says Felix. Hyunjin smiles at him, trying to keep his eyes off how Jisung is gritting his teeth.

He grabs a chair close to Felix, not wanting to deal with Jisung anymore, and runs a hand through his hair. It's messy- incredibly so. It's so unlike him that he has to physically restrain himself to keep him from smoothing it out. Hopefully he can play it off as a new style. Hopefully no one will even ask.

He doesn't have such luck.

"Where've you been?" Jisung asks. He leans forwards, staring pointedly at Hyunjin's trousers. Hyunjin wonders what he's looking at, until he glances down and-

Oh.

They're stained with mud practically up to his calves. It's already beginning to dry, the leaves attached by the thick substance beginning to flake off. Tiny imprints of where their veins were pressed against his trainers is all that remains. If he wasn't now panicking about how he was going to play this off, he'd think it was beautiful.

And in a moment, he doesn't care about it.

He's willing to protect his secret, the flames of anger already clouding his sense of judgement. He will keep the apple to himself. Knowing Jisung, he'd find a way to destroy it, trapping them in the house forever.

Hyunjin can't deal with that.

Not now, when he knows what is out there.

Now he's had one taste of freedom, he'll never be satisfied with Eden again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the format of the gru meme:
> 
> completely plan out fic  
> finish exams so there's lots of time for writing  
> lose all inspiration  
> lose all inspiration
> 
> (this is actually the 2/3 of what is turning out to be a HUGE chapter so i split it up Again)

**THE IN-BETWEEN**

 

Changbin steps into the new world.

The portal behind him closes as soon as his body is through, the very last words the leaves whispered to him still echoing in his ears. The mission. He's going to save the world. It's a challenge, and the emptiness in his soul where two more were pressed up against it still aches, but despite everything, he can't help the smile that splits his face in two as he takes in his surroundings.

It's beautiful.

The third side of the möbius strip, spun from his own imagination, is breathtaking.

From what he can see now, it appears as a huge field. The grass is tall, brushing against his calves as he walks, and purple flowers bloom in patches. They're tiny, with buds so small it's almost impossible to tell they're flowers at all, but they're soft against his fingers and their smell is sweeter than anything he's ever smelt before.

He's standing at the top of a hill now, but a forest lines the edge of one side of the field, so he decides to go and explore further that way. It takes him down the slope, flowers disappearing as the grass returns to a normal length. Maybe he'd miss the scent of the blossoms, but something else has already caught his attention.

Mirrors.

Huge, circular mirrors nestled between the blades of grass. Something warns Changbin to stay away, but he ignores his instincts and steps closer. His reflection stares back at him. The surface of the mirror ripples in the breeze, so incredibly unexpected that he almost doesn't notice the chill running through his bones. The mirrors are beautiful, but they're also dangerous in a way he doesn't understand.

He takes a few steps back. There's no point putting himself in danger now, not with the responsibility of the whole universe pushing down on his shoulders. No. It’s just not worth it. Instead, he needs to start planning how he’s going to collect the other two. It can’t be rushed; he can’t take the risk of anything going wrong. Everything needs to be perfect.

He’ll start on Earth.

Earth is safe. It’s more stable, a heavy heat pressing down and suffocating any immediate cause of disruption. There’s an energy contained within the air that sets Changbin on edge, but its presence is comforting in a way that Eden will never be. It’s trapped in a cycle of repetition, and though Changbin knows that as soon as he makes the slightest action against Earth’s will all that will come crashing down, it’s a chance he has to take.

At least then he knows when the fall will happen.

Eden is rotten from the inside out, a line of gunpowder waiting for the slightest spark. Changbin doesn’t need to take action to make Eden fall, it’s crumbling by itself anyway.

Earth it is, then.

He backs away from the mirror, heading towards the very edge of the treeline. The air around the area shimmers, a pocket of light that glimmers like blown glass. It’s warm, the heat from Earth seeping through the very cracks of reality and infiltrating Changbin’s haven. He doesn’t particularly mind the breeze now.

He pushes one of his fingers through the air, marvelling at the way the light collects around it. It almost glows against the shadows of the trees, spun around his finger like shimmering thread.

Earth.

He steps through, and smiles as reality flips over. One side closer.

 

**EARTH**

There's a weird feeling in the pit of Chan's stomach. It sends shivers through his bones, shards of ice melting between his muscles until he can't stop himself from shivering on reflex.

This... This is strange.

The feeling had only appeared suddenly, within the last few seconds, but it's already making his head spin. Setting his teeth on edge and every other descriptive phrase he can think of for 'uncomfortable'. It's a feeling of anticipation, every cell in his body telling him something important is about to happen, he just has no idea  _what._

Suddenly, he doesn't feel hungry anymore. He pushes his plate forwards, letting the rim scrape the table.

"Chan?" Jeongin frowns at him. Chan can't help feeling bad for leaving him alone, but the feeling in his chest is too concerning to ignore. He'll make up for it tomorrow. He'll buy the younger chocolate milk or something, make sure he knows that Chan didn't really want to leave him.

Except he is.

"I'm going to try and find Woojin. We really need to talk about Seungmin."

Jeongin smiles, albeit looking a bit confused, and watches as Chan packs his things into his bag. He waves him off as he leaves, and if Chan felt bad before, he definitely feels worse now.

He doesn't like lying.

Although he is going to look for Woojin, it's not to talk about Seungmin. Though that's still an issue that meeds to be addressed, he can't shake the feeling something else more important is going to happen. And if it's really that important, he needs to share it with Woojin.

He leaves the school easily, thanking whatever deity there is that he'd signed up for a lunch pass at the beginning of the year. It hadn't seemed worth it then, but Woojin had easily changed his mind, since they could use the time to try and persuade Minho to return to school. The receptionist doesn't even bat an eyelid at him as he swipes the card, letting the school disappear into the background as he begins to look for his boyfriend.

His phone is cold in his hand when he goes to call him. The metal case has been practically untouched for days, but he's satisfied to see that he barely needs to look down at the screen when typing in Woojin's number. The muscle memory of his number will never fade, and it makes Chan smile as he lifts the mobile to his ear. The metal bracelet on his wrist clicks against the plastic as he moves.

Woojin picks up within two rings.

Of course he does. He's Woojin.

_"Chan?"_ He says, confusion evident in his tone,  _"I thought you were going to stay with Jeongin today?"_

Of course Woojin knows his schedule. He's not even surprised at this point. "That's not the way to greet your boyfriend," he chides, but there's no malice to his words.

He can almost see Woojin roll his eyes at the other end of the line, " _Haha, very funny. What would you prefer? I thought you were going to stay with Jeongin today, babe?"_

_"_ Oh? What's this? Kim Woojin, the world's first self-proclaimed pet-name hater, calling his boyfriend  _babe?_ Jeremy, scrap whatever was going to make the first page, this is headline worthy!"

" _I take that means you don't want me to call you babe again, then."_

"No! I didn't mean that!" Chan lets Woojin's laughter calm down before he sighs. Time to address what he actually phoned up for. "Listen, Wooj? I know it's sudden, but can we meet up?"

The other side of the line goes dead silent. " _Chan? Are you okay?"_

"Yeah- no, yeah, I'm fine. I just... I guess I just want to talk. You know, just want to vent a bit. I keep feeling, well, it just feels like somethings going to happen."

" _I'm at the chicken place just off the road by the park."_

Chan smile. He's safe in the knowledge that Woojin will never call him stupid, or make fun of him for getting so worried over a simple feeling. He'd drop everything for him without a moment's hesitation, and Chan would do exactly the same. "Thanks," he says, and he can hear the smile in his voice, "Thanks, Wooj. I'll be there in five."

Woojin hums in approval, hangs up. The click echoes through Chan's head. It makes him feel slightly ill, the strange apprehension in his stomach stronger than ever before. He should have kept talking. He should have never left school. He should-

Much in the same way his stomach twists, he knows something is going to happen before it actually does.

There's a rustle of leaves behind him. The click of shoes against concrete pavement. The air seems to still, time freezing in place. Without turning around, Chan knows that there's someone behind him, and that he almost definitely will not be meeting Woojin in five minutes.

"Bang Chan?" Says the voice of the person behind him. It's lower than Chan would have expected, with gravelly undertones that set his skin on fire.

"What do you want?"

There's a pause. "Look at me."

And Chan betrays every inch of his mind screaming at him to run, every second he could be getting closer to Woojin. The apprehension is overpowering now, making his head spin with a dizzying sickness and turning his legs to jelly. His mouth is dry, palms clammy. Chan turns around.

The boy smiles.

"I know you must be confused," he says, taking a step closer. His hands are held out in a way that's supposed to be calming, but the action just makes Chan even more wary, "But you have to trust me."

"What do you want?"

The boy sighs. "You've already felt it, right? As soon as I arrived, it was always going to be you."

Chan can't help but frown. He takes a step backwards out of habit, "What? What are you talking about?"

"It would be a feeling, I think. Something in your chest, maybe about five or so minutes ago. Am I right?"

Chan doesn't reply. He doesn't want to give this- this  _stranger_ the satisfaction of being right. How could he know this? It doesn't make any sense, none of it does, but he can't bring himself to leave. Whatever the boy is saying makes sense in a strange way, and Chan's feet have been planted to the ground beneath him.

"Like you suddenly realised there was something missing."

No.

This isn't right.

Whatever this boy thinks- whatever drugs he's on, Chan doesn't want to be a part of it. He's got Woojin, and he doesn't need anything more than that. There's nothing  _missing_. "I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head and beginning to turn away again, "But I'm not interested. Please leave me alone."

The boy's face falls, and for a second he feels bad. But Chan has his own problems to deal with; Seungmin and Minho and even Jeongin. He doesn't need this boy to tell him he's 'missing' something.

"It's important."

"I'm sorry, I've already said I'm not intere-"

"You know it's important."

Something in the boy's tone makes Chan stop walking. The arrogance from before is gone, replaced with a desperation that chills his soul. "You know it's important, don't you. You can feel it as much as I can."

Chan shakes his head. He  _can_ feel it, but he's never going to admit that. He tries to move again, but his limbs simply won't work. They're frozen in place.

"You know it's important, and you're going to listen to me. Because I know you. And I know that you want to save your friends."

"My friends don't need saving."

"Then why doesn't it feel like it."

As much as Chan hates to admit it, the boy is right. Although the strange feeling has mostly disappeared, what's left has soured. The initial uneasiness has faded to pure dread, a sick twisting in his gut and throbbing in his mind.

Something bad is going to happen.

That's it, that's what the feeling is trying to tell him, and if this boy is telling him it concerns his friends... then Chan will listen.

For Seungmin, Jeongin, Minho, and for Woojin.

"What do you want?" He repeats.

The boy smiles again. "The universe is crumbling. It's stretched too thin, and if we don't do anything, it'll self-destruct. Taking you, and me, and all your friends with it." He pauses, "You've already noticed, haven't you?"

Chan doesn't reply. He doesn't need to. The boy already knows he has, and continues anyway. "Everything is leading up to something. I'm not sure what it is yet, but it can't be good."

"But I don't understand," Chan's voice sounds weak, and he curses himself in his mind, "What do you want me to do?"

"When I arrived, I sent out a pulse that detected whoever was the most suitable to join me. To make the 'fated three', three people supposed to stabilise the universe. Chan, that pulse found you,"

"To save the universe..." he echoes.

The boy nods. "It may sound strange, but you have to trust me." He sticks his hand out to one side, and Chan's eyes widen when it disappears. The air around it shimmers, sparkling with rainbow flashes of light. "This is a portal. It leads to a pocket universe I created, one that connects this world and the next - Eden."

"There's more than one world?" Chan asks. He can't help it. His head is spinning from all the information he's trying to take in, and the boy's words seem more fitting for a fantasy novel than real-life.

The boy cringes, probably realising how strange his words must seem, "It's overwhelming, I know, but I promise everything will be explained. Come with me, Chan."

None of this makes sense. He doesn't want to help save the world, he just wants to meet up with Woojin and laugh over chicken. He wants to finally find out what Minho is so afraid of, wants to help Seungmin realise he doesn't need to be real to be a human. He wants to apologise for leaving Jeongin.

But he knows that the boy's words are true.

If he doesn't leave now, he might not have a chance to do any of those things. The universe could destabilise at any minute, from what the boy said. Even if he stayed, would his life be long enough to make the decision worth it? Is it worse to never say goodbye, or to have to say goodbye too soon?

But this is Chan.

He can think over the decision as long as he wants, but he knows that he'd always come to the same conclusion.

"I won't be able to see them again, will I?"

The boy shakes his head. "No. You can return to Earth, but you can't interact. They can't know about the existence of other worlds. It's too dangerous."

Chan feels like he already knew that. It makes his heart sting, his phone sitting heavy in his pocket. Woojin's number contained within the metal case, never to be called again. He can't help but feel he took all these years for granted, complaining about the heat and schoolwork, when all he wants now is for everything ti return to normal.

It doesn't change his decision.

This is Chan.

This is Chan, and he's willing to do anything for his friends, and this is Chan knowing that he'll never be able to live with himself if he doesn't leave now.

He nods. "I'm ready."

The boy smiles again. He reaches it his hand for Chan to take, and Chan grips it harder than hems ever done before. Thoughts of everything he's leaving behind race through his mind, but he tries to ignore them. He presses down every single one of his emotions and lets the numbness overtake his body.

He's ready.

"You're doing the right thing," says the boy. He squeezes Chan's hand back, looking at him in the eyes. "I'm sorry that this is happening, but trust me. You're doing the right thing." He steps forwards, disappearing into the hazy patch of air.

Chan follows him.

Leaving Earth behind.

 

**EDEN**

Jisung has been standing outside of the room for a while now. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop originally, but he’d stopped to tie up his shoelaces and overheard them talking, and now found himself unable to move away.

The stone walls are cold against his back, his laces are still undone, his nails are now leaving angry red crescent-marks on his palms. His fingertips are still stained with paint, and he knows that he needs to wash it off quickly if he wants his paintings to be kept a secret. He’s so thirsty- the whole reason why he came down this wing of the house in the first place was to get a glass of water

But the anger bubbling up inside of him drowns all of that out.

On the other side of the wall, Felix says something. It’s obviously him; his deep voice is easily recognisable, and there’s only three other people it could be. Usually, Jisung likes Felix’s voice. The other boy is the only one that doesn’t act like he outright hates him, and listening to him speak reminds Jisung of nicer times.

Times before their friendship was ripped apart. When the four of them were inseparable, ready to escape together and fight against the world for trapping them. Times when they still slept in the same room, too afraid of the empty rooms to ever stay too far away for long.

Times before Seungmin and that  _dickhead_  Hyunjin ruined everything.

Seungmin laughs at whatever Felix had just said, and Jisung grits his teeth. The sound sets him on edge, makes his skin burn with such strong bursts of fury that they make his head spin. Hyunjin joins in- that squeaking giggle making Jisung way to throw up. He hasn’t heard Hyunjin laugh for so long; not when the older only has glares and spiteful comments for him. He’s forgotten how much he  _hated_ the sound.

And yet, it doesn’t distract him from the knowledge that he shouldn’t be here.

That it’s wrong to be standing outside when they don’t know he’s there, that he should really have too much pride to be listening in to a conversation  _he doesn’t even care about anyway._

But he can’t move away.

When was the last time he laughed? He can easily say when everyone else did- all at least once in the five minutes he’s been standing there. They all sound so happy and full of life, and yeah, okay, maybe there is some jealousy nixed in with the anger, because he can’t remember the last time he was truly happy.

It’s okay though. He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care that Hyunjin had been the one to push everyone away, that he’d laced every one of his words with malice and hatred, and that Hyunjin can still find it in him to laugh.

He doesn’t care that Seungmin had outright told him they all stayed away from each other with the exception of meal times, that that was the only times they ever saw each other.

He doesn’t care that Felix,  _Felix,_ the only one who he’d even consider a friend, told him that it was better that they all stayed apart. That sticking to the rules was for the best, that he’d had the  _audacity_ to say he’d miss talking to him whenever he wanted.

He doesn’t care that they lied.

If they want to talk, if they want to be happy in their perfect little world, fine. He’ll let them be happy. He’ll let them keep their meetings a secret.

He swallows the anger inside of him, letting it sit with the rest of his suppressed emotions. The jealousy and the hurt that he won’t ever admit he feels, not even to himself.

There’s just one thing though.

He just has to make sure.

Jisung pushes open the double doors and steps into the room. He doesn’t stop walking and keeps his eyes trained on the exit on the other side of the room. He’s not tempted, not even for a second, to look at the boys sitting on the sofas beside him.

He doesn’t need to. Just as he’d expected, as soon as he steps into the room, the conversation immediately stops. He can feel their eyes trained on the back of head, that he can practically feel the shame at being caught meeting up without him. He pushes the next set of doors open, letting them swing shut behind him. Pauses, just for a moment, to confirm that as soon as he leaves, they start talking again.

They do.

But it’s okay, Jisung doesn’t care.

He  _doesn’t._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bass boosted let me in playing*

 

 

**THE WOODS**

 

The first thing he notices is that the boy is gone. His hand is cold and empty, and he is very much alone. He hadn't noticed him leave, and he was certain that they were still holding hands a second ago, but the world around him is still.

The second thing he notices is that he's in the middle of a forest.

In place of the boy are huge trees. The trunks are huge, pockmarked with ancient scratches and ladened with centuries worth of ivy. The earth beneath his feet is rich with fallen leaves, the breeze that rustles the branches pulling at his hair. And even the air hums with life. The trees seem to pulse with an energy that makes Chan take a step back, filling his cells with a strange serenity.

_Christopher Bang._

Chan practically jumps out of his skin. He wasn't expecting a voice to suddenly appear out of nowhere, let alone with his full name, in English nonetheless. He can't remember the last time he used that name. Spinning in a circle, he tries to see who spoke, but there's no one there.

The leaves rustle around him, and Chan frowns. The wind has died down by now, but the branches are still swinging, each leaf fluttering.  _You won't find a human vessel if that's what you're looking for, Christopher._

"How did you get that name?" Chan asks, "Where are you?" The foliage is dense, but not enough to conceal anyone. The leaves are far too patchy, and he can seestraight through the branches of each tree There's no way anyone could be hiding from him. He's definitely alone.

The voice makes a sound- almost similar to someone  _tutting._ Like they're disappointed, but what is there to be disappointed about? He's only just arrived and barely said a few words. At least, that's all he thinks he has done. With the way this day is going, he doesn't think it's out of the question that he could have been here before and had his memories wiped.

_The child did not explain everything, we see._

We? Chan takes a step back, trying to get away from the voice, before realising that it's not even coming from a direct place. Rather, it echoes from the trunks of the trees surrounding him, everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Maybe he'd regret this decision, if there wasn't as much at risk.

If this had even the slightest semblance of a normal situation, he would have been out of this creepy-ass forest before the voice had even uttered the first letter of his name.

If he had Woojin by his side, maybe he would have gone about things differently. Maybe Woojin would have persuaded him out of even coming in the first place.

(Though, Chan knows in his heart that it was always going to end like this. As soon as the boy had stepped out of the bushes, it was always going to end like this. There's no way he would ever leave his friends to suffer when he could have changed things, and even if Woojin had persuaded him out of it, it would only be so that the older boy could take his place)

If he was a different person, maybe he'd have laughed it off and woken up buy now.

But he's none of those things. Chan bites his lip, digs his fingernails into his palms, reminds himself why he's here, and demands answers.

"Listen," he says, "I don't know where you are, and I don't know why you're hiding. And frankly, I don't care about either of those things. I want to know how I can save my friends, and I want you to explain what's going on."

The leaves rustle again.  _You are impatient. Time doesn't not exist in the same form here, not anymore._

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The voice continues as if he hadn't spoken.  _But we like your determination. It's not often that someone so pure of heart arrives here, and we admire your sacrifice._ There'sa pause, then the voice speaks again, this time as if there was a smile intheir voice,  _Child, look around you. We are the woods. We are The Woods._

It's not the strangest thing Chan's heard today.

And, as he takes in his surroundings again, he realises it makes sense. The rustling of the leaves seems so much more like whispering, the creaking of the branches like the slightest of movements. Even the fact that the voice seemed to be coming from every direction at the same time makes much more sense.

The Woods.

He listens in rapture as the living trees explain everything. About mirror worlds, instability greater than he could ever imagine. Three realities all hanging against The Woods, a Möbius strip looping around forever. Earth and Eden and everything in between. The same 'fated three' that the boy had mentioned, the three he assumes he's part of now.

 _You're doing the right thing,_ they assure him, leaves fluttering down from their branches to comfort him. They land on his shoulders, in his hair, beneath his feet, all whispering muffled words of comfort into his ears.  _You're going to save the universe. Thank you._

And then they stop.

Where the quiet words had once been unsettling, the silence that follows their absence sets Chan's skin alight with apprehension. Foreboding clouds the skies in almost tangible swirls of mist, a deep feeling that settles in his gut and makes him twitch his fingers nervously.

_There's just one thing._

"What is it?" Says Chan. Whatever it is, he's willing. For Jeongin, Minho and Seungmin, for Woojin. He's ready and willing and is going to do whatever it takes to keep them safe. It's not like he ever had much of an instinct for self-preservation in the first place.

The leaves hum in their silence, almost guilty with forgotten details.  _You cannot become one of the Fated Three in your current form._

Chan frowns, "What do you mean? What's wrong with my 'current form'?"

_It is corrupt. Your creation on Earth has marred your soul, and biased you towards incidents on that plane of reality. If you were to join like this, it would only upset the balance of the universe further._

That doesn't sound great. Words like 'corrupt' and 'marred' never have good connotations, and Chan doesn't understand what this means for him now. He can't join? But the boy had said he was the most suited for the role, and if he didn't join, who would? He can't allow it to be anyone else, not that now he knows the consequences of joining,

He can't let anyone else go through this.

It's him.

It  _has_ to be him.

"Then what can I do to change that?"

There's a brief pause, as if the leaves are conferring amongst themselves to decide whether he's worthy or not. As if his friends’ lives aren't on the line. What happens to them if he's too 'corrupt'? What happens next?

He can't deny the sigh of relief that escapes him when The Woods begins to speak again.  _It... is easier if we simply show you._

And then, Chan is simply not there anymore.

 

 

 **UNKNOWN- THE WOODS**  


 

It’s cold.

Chan is not in the same place in the woods any more, and he certainly isn’t on Earth. The sticky heat of his home now seems like a distant memory, even the moderate breezes of where he’d just been seeming like a fever dream compared to… this.

The world around him has been turned to white.

Snow coats the ground around him, the soil beneath frozen solid. His breath hangs in the air when he exhales, and through the sun is still shining brightly, the temperature is significantly below zero. Frozen shards of ice litter the ground, great glaciers looming over him in the distance. The whole scene seems washed out, a scene painted in the palest whites and blues, with the only exception being the deep black of the soil.

The cold air of the outside world presses up against the windows of the van. Chan cranes his neck around to try and make out what type of vehicle he’s in, frowning when he sees the distinctive end of a yellow pickup truck. It’s too bright to fit in with the icy world that surrounds him, garish and over-powering against the pastel shades.

The tyres rumble as they pass over a particularly large bump in the road. The sudden movement makes Chan jump, and he snaps his head back to the front of the car. The view in front of him is astounding: snow-capped mountains towering over the pale terrain, the sides of the track they’re travelling down glistening with shards of ice that sparkle like diamonds. But something else catches Chan’s eye.

The driver’s seat is empty.

He glances down at the pedals, only to confirm that the correct ones are held down. As they near a bend in the path, the wheel swings violently to one side without anyone having touched. The truck is being controlled by invisible hands.

It’s by far not the strangest thing Chan’s seen today, not by a long shot, but he can’t take his eyes away from the sight. The pedals work themselves automatically, the gears shifting without him as much as looking in its direction. He half considers reaching out to control the steering wheel himself, but something holds him back. He shouldn’t be messing with things he doesn’t understand, not when so much is at stake. Who knows, touching the truck could go against some unspoken rule. He doesn’t want to end up any more ‘corrupt’ that he already is.

Eventually, he tears his eyes away from the scene. He presses his cheek against the window to his side, sighing when his skin makes contact with the cold glass. It’s slightly painful, but refreshing. The chill helps him clear his thoughts more than anything.

But almost as soon as he shifts in his seat, trying to get a bit more comfortable as there’s no telling where the end destination is and how long it’ll take to reach it, the engine cuts out. Chan stills. The truck is completely silent. The wheel hangs motionless, the pedals as if they’d never been touched in the first place.

Somehow, the absence of movement is more off-putting than the fact it was unexplained.

The passenger door swings open, and Chan takes that as his sign to leave the truck. He steps out into the cold, shivering as the icy wind whips against his skin. It’s only then that he realises that he’s wearing something completely different to his outfit when he’d left the woods. His school uniform is gone, warm blazer and shirt missing. In their place is a pair of itchy trousers in an unattractive shade of beige. His torso is still covered by a shirt, but it’s mostly obscured by a large shawl that’s draped over his body.

His hand immediately flies to his wrist. He doesn’t care about the fact his phone is now lost to the void, his credit card that still has over thirty pounds on it, the slip of paper Jeongin had passed him before lunch that he’d never had a chance to read.

No.

He cares about the bracelet.

The metal chain that he hasn’t taken off his wrist since Woojin bought it from him. Even when the metal had stained his skin slightly green from how cheap it was, he refused to remove it. The bracelet is more than a bracelet; it’s a sign of the love he shares with Woojin. It’s more important to him than anything else could ever be.

And it’s still there.

He lets out the sight of relief, a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The shawl rubs against the bare skin on his arms in a way that he knows is soon to be annoying, but he can’t bring himself to care. He still has the bracelet, and that’s all that matters.

He glances behind him again, to where the pickup truck is just as still as before. It hasn’t moved since he looked away, and he has the feeling that it won’t move again. At least, not until he completes whatever he’s supposed to do.

‘Uncorrupt’ himself, or whatever that’s supposed to mean.

In the distance, the skeletal remains of a plane stare back at him. The main body of the aircraft is mostly destroyed, but just enough is left to shelter the inside of the ruins from the harsh conditions of the outside world. A shimmering layer of ice is visible even from this far away, and Chan braces himself for the chill he knows will surround the cold metal.

But it’s his only choice.

The rest of the area is barren. The mountains are definitely too far away to travel to on foot, and another glance behind him confirms the doors of the pickup truck are all firmly closed. There’s no way he’s getting back into the vehicle.

He takes a few steps forwards. The cold ground crunches beneath his boots, but they do little to protect him from the chill of the wind seeping in through his socks. His whole body is shivering already, and he can imagine his toes turning bluer and bluer with every extra second he stands still. He can’t wait like this for much longer, can’t even stay still long enough to think over a decision properly.

Not that he needs to. The Woods brought him here for a reason, right? There’s obviously a purpose for him being here- and the sooner he wants his friends to be saved, the sooner he needs to become one of the ‘fated three’.

The plane it is, then.

Or at least, the plane it would be. He never  actually reaches it.

Before he can even get close to the metal carcass, something else grabs his eye. Movement in the distance, where before there was only snow and ice. He wants to ignore it, to continue on his path towards the plane, but he can't. The movement seems to call him, and now as he gets closer, he can just about make out a figure standing in the distance.

"Hey!" He calls out. The figure isn't facing him, so he'd hoped the sound of his voice would get their attention. He has no such luck. Instead, the figure- a man, he can make out now- continues staring at something only he can see. Chan squints, but he can't see anything past the swirling mist of snow and towering mountains. He’s pretty sure his eyesight isn’t that bed, despite what Minho says, so it’s rather strange that he can’t make out what the figure is staring so intently at.

“Hey!” He calls again, and gets exactly the same result as last time- which is to say absolutely nothing. It’s like the man can’t hear him, which in itself is highly unlikely. The plane begins to fade into the distance, and the snow on the ground becomes more space, but Chan barely notices. “Hey!” He repeats, “Can you hear me?”

There’s still no reply. He’s near enough that he’s sure he could make out the man’s facial features if only he turned around. The wind seems to increase in intensity as Chan takes another step forward.

And tries to take another step forward.

But he can’t. Something is holding him back. It’s the same force that stopped him from spinning the steering wheel, the same realisation that this is where he’s supposed to be. It’s the same force that makes him take in what the man is wearing.

His hair is pale and wavy. It curls in a way that Chan’s would if he ever let go of his precious straighteners for a day, and the light colour would suggest that it’s dyed. But there are no dark roots, and that’s not even the strangest thing by far. He’s wearing some sort of suit where the trousers and jacket are an impossibly clean white. They’re both layered with equally pale feathers, a few even decorating the ground by where he’s standing.

It’s strange, but as soon as he’s made to take in his appearance, the feeling seems to tell him to do something else. _Look down,_ it says, and so he does.

Just to the right of his left foot is a slingshot catapult.

It’s a miracle that he hadn’t noticed it before. The wooden material is pale but still much warmer that the white and black that surround it. Several shards of what look like _diamonds_ surround it, glistening in the cold air with millions of rays of light. They’re perfectly clear and colourless, and Chan doesn’t know what would happen if he touched one, but he doesn’t want him to find out.

There’s a burning desire inside him to pick them up, but he can almost hear someone telling him not to. That they’re too dangerous. The instinct to obey the feeling is almost overpowering, but Chan is nothing if not fiercely loyal, dependable and maybe a little stubborn. It’s this stubbornness that latches onto the small voice inside him. His fingers hover over the diamonds, but he picks up the catapult instead, weighing it in his palms.

It’s quite heavy, more so than he expected. For a second, he wonders what he’s supposed to do next. He still can’t move forwards, but now the feeling is also denying him the movement of stepping backwards as well. He’s stranded in this exact spot.

He’s just about to give in and pick up one of the diamonds, when something unexpected happens.

The man turns around.

And he sees his own face staring back at him.

Chan almost drops the catapult out of shock. The man’s pale face is identical to his, down to the very second. It’s like looking into a mirror- and it’s only when he makes that connection that he realises what he’s supposed to do here.

It all comes down to the mirrors.

The man, the figure that had stared so intently into the distance is him. Or rather, is a version of him. If he’s right, and he’s pretty sure he is, his mirror-self represents his time on Earth. All his feelings, every one of his most precious memories, _each corrupt cell_ stares back at him.

The catapult finally makes sense.

If he kills his mirror-self, he’s free to join the ‘fated three’.

If he doesn’t, there’s no telling what’ll happen to him.

Really, he only has one option here. If he really wants to save his friends, he should pick up the diamond and fire it at himself without thinking twice. But he can’t help but pause. The voice from before, just as deep and foreign as it was before, echoes in his mind. Insistent that he doesn’t touch them pleading with his conscience to resist the desire that makes his head spin with its ferocity.

There has to be another way. Something else that’s equally as dangerous, that has about the same weight and size as the stone.

It clicks.

There is something else but…

It doesn’t matter now. There’s no point with sentimental value if in a few seconds he won’t have any memories to remember it by. Already wracked by guilt, he begins to slip Woojin’s bracelet off his wrist. The clasp is larger than usual for a bracelet that size, and for all Chan’s complained about how uncomfortable it was in the past, he’s so incredibly grateful for it now.

The metal bends easily, slipping off the clasp as if it were melted butter. It just goes to say how cheap it was in the first place, but Chan can’t bring himself to care. He slips the remainder of the chain into his trouser pocket, and his hands shake as he loads the metal into the catapult, though it’s impossible to tell whether it’s from nerves or the bitter cold.

He doesn’t let himself think over the fact that this is his last remainder of Woojin. That after this, he’ll never see them again. Or even if he does, he’ll have no memory of how important they were to him in the first place.

He simply fires.

The clasp hits his mirror-self in the forehead. Maybe it’s his imagination, but his pale-haired version seems shocked as he crumples to the ground. His eyes widen as if he’s been betrayed, feathers coming loose from his jacket and falling around him in a pitiful imitation of a snowstorm.

His body hits the ground, and for a moment nothing happens. Chan- who’s squeezed his eyes shut the moment the clasp made contact- opens them just in time to see the last of the feathers float to the ground.

Strangely, there’s no disappointment when he realises it didn’t work. Instead, a sick flood of relief drowns his body. He can see Woojin standing beside him, every second they’ve spent together. Chan misses him so much already, his eyes beginning to sting with the wind whipping where his warm tears leave tender salty trails.

God, he loves Woojin so much.

He’s so, so sorry that he’ll never see him again. He’ll never have a chance to explain where he went, or why he had to leave, and he can only hope that he’s not too heartbroken over his disappearance. That he finds someone else, someone who loves him as much as Chan, and would never leave him all alone.

 He deserves to be happy.

He deserves more that Chan.

He holds the memories of him close to his chest. The part nearest to his heart, and never wants to let them go. They’re so special to him, and maybe the sick sense of relief was telling him that it’s okay to be selfish. That he was just going to wake up from this whole nightmare and laugh about it with Woojin in the morning.

Even if it didn’t work, even if it’s not a dream, Chan doesn’t care. He’s decided those memories are part of him that he could never forgive himself if he replaced. He’s allowed to keep them to himself. He’ll never have to forget Woojin, even if he does never see him aga-

Then Chan is gone, leaving his memories behind.

 

 

**THE IN-BETWEEN**

 

Chan opens his eyes and sits up.

He's in a field, and although he's pretty sure that he was  _not_  in a field when he closed his eyes, that's not the strangest thing about this situation. No, that title is reserved for the huge circular mirrors dotted in the grass around him, the pounding headache that's somehow behind his right eye, and the fact that he can't remember anything apart from a few words.

The rustle of leaves as branches beckon him forwards.

Lilting whispers about the universe, and how he was going to save it- how it was his  _destiny._

A short, dark haired boy taking his hand and stepping into somewhere so,  _so_  cold.

But there's nothing else. The rest of his mind is empty, except a few remaining flashes of colour from the world around him. It's not even particularly painful; as he presses his fingers to the pain behind his eye, it immediately ceases, melting into nothing as soon as his fingertips make contact.

They're cold against his flushed skin, that must be why. Soothing from the hot sun that beats down on him, even when something tells him that this isn't warm, that he'd dreamed of cooling breezes like the one that ruffles his hair now. He can't work out why he thinks that, but the headache has drained him of energy. He's much more interested in looking around him than chasing after the hole in his head.

There's simply a gap in his mind, and Chan can't bring himself to care.

"I see you're finally awake," says a new voice, and Chan immediately jumps up. He almost topples over with the speed of the action, but the boy grabs his arm, steadying him. "Woah, easy there. You've just woken up; you'll still be pretty woozy for a bit."

Chan frowns. That does make sense. As much as he wants to explore, the boy's words are calming and explain why the ground won't seem to stop spinning. "Huh," he replies, to make sure the boy knows he heard him, before sinking back onto the grass again.

"There'll be plenty of time later," says the boy. He sits next to Chan on the grass when the older motions for him to join. The grass brushes across their palms, the soil warm between their fingers.

They sit in silence for a while. As he said, there's plenty of time. Chan knows it works differently here, that reality is stretched thin over this small corner of the universe. He doesn't know how he knows, but he doesn't question the knowledge. Instead, he simple watches as the three moons hanging in the sky send shimmering flashes of light reflecting off the mirrors.

"You're the first, right?"

The boy turns to face Chan, confusion written all over his face, "No? What makes you say that?"

Chan frowns. He doesn't know really, but it would make sense. The number seems important, and from what he remembers the leaves having told him, the boy is the first presence in their reality.

This is the purpose he was created for. Surely, there it would make sense that there was nothing before him. Before, there was only the endless expanse of the woods and its mirror. If the boy was solely to restore this balance, he was the first entity outside of the universe itself.

"I'm not sure," he eventually admits, shifting uncomfortably on the grass. His limbs are already beginning to feel stronger, his mind becoming clearer with every second that passes. "You were the first one here."

The boy smiles. He looks down at the ground, as if he knows something that Chan doesn't, and then Chan realises that's probably exactly what's happening. "I guess. But this place-  _the In-Between_ \- didn't exist until I created it. And I myself wasn't created until the mirror world had left the woods."

"So?"

"So the two realities created in the split burst into life, much in the same way all life drained from the woods. If you want to label me, I'd be somewhere between the numbers in Earth and Eden. Somewhere in the middle." He smiles again, " _In-between_."

Chan laughs. He can't help it, he's always been a sucker for bad jokes, but the boy seems taken aback by Chan actually finding him funny. He looks surprised for a moment, before settling back down and starting to laugh at his own joke.

It's then that Chan realises he knows nothing about him.

That the boy sitting across from him is a complete mystery.

He's supposed to be the first third of three people that are going to save the universe. He's a puzzle piece that connects perfectly to Chan, three with a bond tighter than anything else. They're going to transcend reality, and Chan doesn't even know his name.

"Hey," he says, when the laughter eventually dies down, "Tell me something about yourself."

The boy smiles. He looks Chan up and down, and must eventually decide that he's had enough time to rest, because he pulls them both up. "My name is Changbin. The woods created me. What else is there to know?"

"That's not what I meant." Chan's words are almost lost to the wind as Changbin begins to drag him towards one of the huge mirrors. They step at the same time without even meaning to, even their footsteps perfectly aligned. "What's your favourite colour? Your favourite genre of music? Anything, anything that tells me you're real, and not some robot that the woods-."

There's a pause, Chan's brain trying to keep up with the words tumbling out of his mouth, "You are real, right?"

"Of course." Says Changbin, but there's something about his tone that says even he doesn't know. "Blue. Hip hop. I've always wanted a pet fish."

"What type?"

"Betta." He sees Chan's blank face, and rushes to explain, "They're a type of fish that've got a reputation for being violent. I feel bad for them, because no one really wants a fish that doesn't get along..." He trails off, shaking his head and stopping himself before he can talk anymore. "It doesn't matter. We're here."

And Chan's jaw drops.

They're standing at the edge of one of the huge mirrors, peering into the reflected surface. The sky above them seems to glow, and the surface of the mirror ripples in the wind. Chan almost reaches out to touch it, pushing his finger through the gauze and watching as it disappears. But some primal survival instinct forces him to stay back. Something tells him that whatever is on the other side of the mirror is not safe.

"What is it?" He asks.

Changbin grimaces. "It's a portal. The idea was that it reflected both Earth and Eden, making it easier to travel between them. But it didn't work."

Chan watches as the mirror ripples again. The reflection suddenly switches to an empty park, a swing moving slowly in the breeze. "It's too unstable," he breathes, and Changbin nods.

"It formed too much of a connection to Earth," he says. The park disappears again, and their reflections return. For the first time, Chan notices something he hadn't before.

His right eye, the one where the splitting headache had been before, is different. There's a ring of light in the iris, glinting with a deep red that makes his whole face seem to glow. A quick glance at Changbin shows that the same thing has happened to him; the same eye shimmering in blue.

It seems familiar to him. Almost as if he's seen this before- not the same, of course, but similar. It's at the back of his mind, but like an itch that can't be scratched, whatever it is evades him. A memory that is just out of his reach.

Yet again, he can't bring himself to care.

"Look," says Changbin. He's spotted their glowing eyes as well, and points to them in the reflection. "We're going to save the world."

Chan smiles. He steps closer to the mirror and grins at his reflection. The reflection grins back, and he slides his hands in his pockets. "We're going to save the world," he echoes, as his fingers brush against a cold metal chain.


	8. Chapter 8

__

 

**EDEN**

 

Considering Seungmin has never tried to hide from anyone before, he has to admit he's actually quite good at him. The whole time he's been following Hyunjin (at least twenty minutes, since the older apparently has the attention span of a pea), he hasn't made a single sound.

Hyunjin has no idea he's there.

Seungmin is pressed up behind a door. It's dark wood, matching every other wooden surface in the house, and each panel has intricate patterns carved into it. It had originally been open, and in fact a line still remained on the thick carpet from how long it had been in the same position. Moving had been a risk, considering it could have made a noise as the bottom dragged across the floor, but it was one he'd had to take. He was now completely hidden, having pulled it closed in case Hyunjin decided to double back on himself.

He can just about see through the line where the hinges meet the wall, a slither of light falling into his eyes and making him squint. It's becoming incredibly harder to make out what Hyunjin is doing, as the rest of the light illuminates him perfectly.

His hair has lightened considerably over the last few weeks, turning from a deep chocolate brown to a shade more akin to coffee. His skin has also become more tanned, honey-coloured and glowing in even the darkest of rooms. He seems happier as well, something that Seungmin can't decipher. It's obvious to see, considering he uplifts the mood of every room he walks into, but there's no telling as to why the change in his demeanour occurred.

It's strange.

Of course, Felix hasn't noticed. For all the boy looks out for them, Seungmin knows he's caught up in his own problems. He doesn't want to bother him anymore than he already does, and besides, he's becoming more and more reclusive these days. Any time Seungmin tried to talk to him, having looked forward to what had once been daily meet-ups where he could talk about Hyunjin, the freckled boy would pull away.

And it's not like Jisung would even notice if Hyunjin suddenly died. Seungmin's pretty sure he'd only wonder where the older had gone when he was in the mood to start another fight, and even then he'd probably celebrate his death.

Seungmin shudders. He's the only one that has noticed this change in Hyunjin, and he wants to keep it that way. Truth be told, he knows he's slightly obsessed with the older boy. To be able to notice even the slightest change in his appearance and attitude comes naturally to him, even if Hyunjin usually only ever regards him with indifference.

Except...

Seungmin's heart swells at the thought of the cassette. Hyunjin had given it to him stars in his eyes and roses on his cheeks. It was the first time he'd seemed different, but Seungmin didn't notice that against what he was holding in his outstretched hands. "Here," he'd said, "For you."

A cassette tape.

The label was bright. Nothing like Seungmin had ever seen before: a pale pink background with peach writing in a language he couldn't understand. The very edges of the letter sparkled with glitter, shimmering in the light. The design was strange, and the colours didn't particularly go well together, but it was the most beautiful thing Seungmin had ever seen.

Because it was different. Something different to anything he'd ever found in the house before. Unlike anything else in their cage of a world, so dazzlingly out of place that Seungmin didn't even stop to think about where Hyunjin had gotten it from.

Because the tracks on it were unlike anything he'd ever heard before. Instruments that filled his heart with emotions so strong they brought tears to his eyes. He's played each song so many times that he can reconstruct the entire thing in his mind.

And because it was from Hyunjin.

Maybe, just maybe there's a chance that Seungmin's feelings are reciprocated. He'd spent so long trailing after the older boy, wallowing in self-pity over an unrequited crush that seemed to swallow him whole. He felt like he could barely breathe around Hyunjin, as if his heart were about to burst out of his chest. It made him giddy with happiness, but there had always been part of him that couldn't forget the fact Hyunjin seemed intent on ignoring him.

It was the same part of him that told him Hyunjin would never love him, that he was destined to follow after the older boy for all eternity, forever pining. That eventually, if it hadn't already happened, Hyunjin would cast him off without a second thought. It was in the boy's nature to do so, he was simply selfish in a way that only comes about from a certain obliviousness. It wasn't that he was ignoring Seungmin's emotions, it was that he hadn't noticed them.

And yet, when he'd presented Seungmin with the cassette, Seungmin thought he saw something. Something beyond the usual curiosity and laughter that filled Hyunjin's eyes. Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought he'd seen insecurity, almost as if he was hoping Seungmin would like the gift.

Which was crazy, of course, because Seungmin would like anything Hyunjin gave him and follow the older boy to the very end of the univer-

Hyunjin moves. The sudden sound breaks Seungmin out of his thoughts, and he cranes his neck even further around just in time to see Hyunjin look up. The older boy puts down the glass of water he'd been holding, and looks around. He scans the room for any sign of life, any movement at all, and though Seungmin's heart is beating in his mouth so loud he's convinced he's going to be found, Hyunjin decides there's no one there.

And he smiles.

It's a type of smile Seungmin's never before. It brightens his whole face until it's the only thing you can see, filling his eyes with a joy he didn't even know existed. It makes his eyes sparkle like huge glittering diamonds, making his cheeks turn as pink as the roses that grown just below the kitchen windows. A childlike excitement for a secret only he knows, the happiest he's ever been in the whole time they've been trapped here.

Hyunjin smiles, then he turns and leaves the room.

Seungmin is quick to follow him. Despite having spent his whole life in the house, it's still surprisingly easy to get lost. The winding corridors and doors that seemed to appear randomly were only easy to navigate if you knew the way extremely well, which seems easy enough in concept nut not when you realised just quite how big the house actually was.

It also didn't help that they were beginning to near Jisung's part of the house.

Although their self-imposed rule of not allowing each other in their private designated rooms only referred to the specific rooms, Seungmin had taken it one step further when it came to Jisung. He hadn't neared that area of the house for years. Something about the older boy scared him in ways that he didn't understand, and he'd decided it was much better just to avoid him at all costs. Besides, his fight with Hyunjin meant that Hyunjin never neared those rooms easier. Since Seungmin was usually only a few steps behind him, he never really had any cause to go there in the first place.

Or, so he'd thought Hyunjin avoided them.

Because Seungmin might not know this part of the house very well, but he definitely knows they're very close to Jisung's rooms.

So close, in fact, that he starts to recognise the doors to his left as the older boy's. He brushes against one by accident as he ducks behind a large chest of drawers to avoid Hyunjin's eyes, and it sets his skin alight. The very wood seems to throb with hatred, cutting insults carved into the wall around it. Every sentence that's been spat at him from across the dinner table seeps out into the carpet underneath the door.

Jisung mutters those words under his breath, and it stains the world around him.

And yet here's Hyunjin, where he shouldn't be. He looks around again, and Seungmin presses himself even closer to the wall, hissing as he imagines what Jisung would say if he found them here. He just has to trust Hyunjin, that's all. Hyunjin knows what he's doing.

Hyunjin opens one of Jisung's doors and steps inside.

Seungmin can't help the gasp that escapes him, and is then incredibly grateful that the door had swung shut behind him. Even if he doubts the older would have noticed, the adrenaline pumping through his veins makes him extra-sensitive to any noise. What is Hyunjin doing in one of Jisung's rooms? Is that where he's been disappearing to?

It makes a strange kind of sense; they're the one place Seungmin hadn't checked before resorting to following him. That would explain why he hadn't had any chance at finding him, despite knowing the rest of the house like the back of his hand. 

He can't help but hold his breath as he leaves the safety of the chest of drawers. Crossing the room to the door Hyunjin had disappeared through takes a surprisingly short amount of time. He hesitates as he rests his palm against the wood. He can't help it; what if he opens the door and Hyunjin is still in there? Or, even worse, what if Jisung was there? Thousands of excuses hurtle through his mind, but none are even slightly believable.

It'll be a risk he has to take.

If he doesn't enter now, he might never find out where Hyunjin has been going. If he doesn't go now, Jisung could enter the corridor and he'd be just as trapped as would be if he'd entered. No matter which way he thought about it, it was more sensible to continue following after Hyunjin than continue waiting outside the door.

He pushes it open and enters.

The room is beautiful. Sunlight pours through the windows, illuminating the paintings that cover every single surface. Colours he didn't think existed burst into life, paintbrushes and palettes littering the floor around him. But that isn't what catches Seungmin's eye.

Instead, he's immediately drawn to the huge wardrobe sitting in the corner of the room. The paintings have just begun to swirl onto it, covering the left side with bright pink, brighter than Seungmin's ever seen before. The door is just closing, swinging shut slowly as if someone had just closed it.

Seungmin doesn't need to check any of the adjacent rooms to work out where Hyunjin had gone. He didn't know why the older had shut himself into the wardrobe, but since Seungmin did not want to stay here for any longer than necessary, he decided there was no better time for a confrontation that now.

Or it would be. Seungmin opens the wardrobe, only to find the door doesn't open the whole way. 

Of course. "Hyunjin?" he asks, frowning when there's no reply. The older must know he's here, he wasn't exactly very subtle. "I'm coming in." It's much safer in the wardrobe. Even if it might be quite cramped with both of them inside (he ignores the part of his brain that immediately starts picturing how close they'll be), they're much less likely to be caught by Jisung if they're hidden. He drops to his knees and crawls inside, pulling the door shut behind him much like HYunjin had.

He also very quickly realises Hyunjin isn't there.

It doesn't make sense. He'd  _seen_ the older boy shut the door, he'd seen him enter the room and this was the only place he could have gone. Except it was very much empty, the only things inside being a few clothes hanging down and a small round object in the corner.

There's a sudden wave of curiosity inside him.

Without even meaning to, he reaches out and grabs- the  _apple_ , what's an apple doing here?- and brings it to his lips. It's sweet, despite how old it must be, filling his head with candied fruit and making his stomach rumble. It clouds his head, spinning him round until it's all he can think about , and maybe that's why he doesn't notice he's biting into it until he's swallowing.

And then he simply isn't there anymore.

 

 

**EARTH**

 

Minho feels ill. There's a sickness deep in his stomach that hurts whenever he thinks about it. It fills his veins with nausea, and plagues his every waking moments with headaches and lightheadedness. It's the kind of ill that only appears when he's conscious of it, a dull ache more than anything else.

It's the same kind of feeling to when you stand up too quickly and black spots blossom in front of your eyes. The kind of tired that hits you in the middle of the day, when it's far too late to give up and go back to bed. The kind of sick that clouds your mind the few seconds before you've actually thrown up.

Copper coating his tongue, metal tinged lips whenever he opens his mouth.

It's a strange feeling that isn't particularly pleasant. Sure, maybe he enjoyed the first few moments, basking in the thought of having a genuine reason go avoid school, but it had quickly faded. He would try looking up his symptoms, but he's pretty sure there'd be no search results.

Probably because Minho isn't actually ill.

The nausea that seeps through his bones isn't genuine. It's a result of his own goddamn guilt, his own body recognising how much of a fucking loser he is. It doesn't want to be trapped here with him for any longer, so ashamed of his emotions that it's willing to self-sabotage.

It's his mind rejecting his own feelings, putting him through torture in a sick way of making him repent for his thoughts. Every sadistic burst of ecstasy, every cold-blooded second of happiness he had gained. He deserves every second of pain he gets.

And he's so,  _so_  ashamed of himself, but he can't help it. His mind is too messed-up, and at this point he's just accepted what a horrible piece of shit he is.

Minho felt glad that Chan disappeared.

It's the perfect excuse to get out of school, and with his friends no less. Ever since he disappeared, it's like they've completely forgotten he hasn't attended any of his classes for weeks. There have been no awkward questions, no attempts to guilt him into coming when he knows he's going to hate it. He hasn't had to stand between the gates with bubbling anxiety for what seems like  _ages._

It's completely different from normal, and despite his self-proclaimed fear of change, he can't deny that he loves this.

Every day they wander around town, looking in every single shop. It's the same routine, because Woojin doesn't want to admit that nothing's going to change, and Jeongin doesn't have the heart to break it to him. Ever since Chan's disappeared, it's like time has stopped.

Or rather, stuck on a loop of the same day over and over again.

There are no exams now. No advisers asking him where he'd like to go once school finishes, because school is never going to finish. There are no celebratory parties or surprises in the schedule, because they're reliving the same day and Minho knows  _exactly what's going to happen._

Chan's gone, but everything else has come to a standstill.

Maybe that's where all his guilt is stemming from. Maybe he could try to tell himself that he was only happy for a second, even if he knows that isn't true. If it was more than his kind telling him to feel guilty, because he knows the absence of sincerity in the emotion is just plain wrong. It's his own body bailing on him, leaving him to rot with all the other sinners.

He feels sick, he feels nauseous, but worst of all he feels he can't bring himself to care.

On the table, his phone rings. It breaks him out of his thoughts, stopping his endless repetitive motion of tugging on his sleeves. The fabric there is torn and stretched, a much paler yellow than the rest of the sweater. He can see his fingers move through the thin fabric, and rubs his thumb across the area.

He doesn't want it to break. That means having to go and buy a new one, which means he'll have to go into a shop and attempt some sort of human interaction. It means the new jumper won't be as soft, and he'll feel as if his skin is crawling with millions of ants for at least a weeks because he's out of the only fabric softener he likes.

He sighs again, forcing himself to leave it alone.

Maybe there's something wrong with him.

But as always, it's Minho. And Minho is so scared of anything changing that he refuses to do anything about it. He's survived for this long, he doesn't need to talk to anyone about his problems when he's doing just fine. So like everything else in his life, he puts the thought to the back of his mind and ignores it.

The phone buzzes again, and he flips it over to reveal that he has three missed calls. All from Woojin, since he's too preoccupied with other things to remember that Minho has never answered a phone call in his life. It's understandable, considering what he's going through at the moment.

Minho flips the phone back over, running his finger down the side until he finds the switch to turn it onto silence. He can still feel the buzzing, but it's so much easier to ignore than the painfully cheerful tune. In fact, he thinks, if he's just going to ignore it he might as well go the whole way. He grabs a cushion off of a nearby chair and practically smothers the device until the room is plunged back into silence.

There.

Much better.

Then he frowns. Though the incessant beeping of his phone has totally stopped, there's still a strange noise in the room. A scratching sound, though quite muffled. It grates across his ears, sending goosebumps down his arms and causing him to grind his teeth in agitation. Whatever it is, he needs to find it and stop it.

He follows the sound out if the kitchen and down the entrance hall until he reaches the front door. The frosted glass in the centre of the door clearly shows there's no one standing outside, since there's no shadow of a person. Instead, as he crosses the room and wraps his fingers around the door handle, the noise completely stops.

Well, that's strange.

He's not expecting anyone either, since Woojin is probably still out looking for Chan, and Jeongin and Seungmin are still at school. There is the possibility that the reason Woojin was calling him was to say he was coming round, but then why hadn't he rung the doorbell? The scratching sound he's heard was far from human, so it was doubtful it was any of his friends.

In the end, he doesn't know why he opens the door.

It's not a very Minho thing to do. To encounter something unknown and face it head on. When the possibility is that it won't end well, that something will have changed by the end, he would usually ignore it. Simple self-preservation, really.

And yet there's something about whatever is beyond the door. A feeling in his chest that fills him with curiosity. He wants to know what was behind it, he  _has_  to know. The words echo like a mantra in his mind, making his head spin with want.

He opens the door.

On the front porch, two steps down from his actual door, is something that was not there before. A bracelet. The plastic is already beginning to waver in the heat, sticking to the concrete like it'd been there for years, so he picks it up and inspects it.

It's actually well-made, despite the cheap materials. A thin wire through the middle of colour coordinated beads. A bright yellow that reminds him of his treasured jumper and a smoky grey, shot through with black swirls. He slips it onto his wrist, raising his eyebrows when it fits perfectly.

There's a tuft of hair caught in the clasp, too short to be human. Even if Minho wasn't obsessed with the animal, he's be able to recognise it instantly. It's bright ginger cat hair from the tabby that lives down the street, which explains the strange scratching sound. Sure enough, when he turns around he can see indents from claws on the wall next to his door.

He crouches down and runs his fingers over the marks, dislodging another tuft of hair from the splintering wood. The tabby has never done anything like this before, so it's a bit strange, but Minho doesn't want to overthink it. Maybe if he's feeling up to it, he'll return the bracelet to the cat's owner. That must be where it's come from- the cat must have stolen it from the owner's child and brought it here, where he'd scared it off as he opened the door.

(Or maybe he won't return it. The very thought of talking to his neighbour makes him sick to his stomach, although he can't explain why. But still, it's nice to pretend he has to intention of being a good person, even if it's far from the truth.)

That's when he notices something else.

Tucked into the hole left by the scratch marks is a tiny slip of paper, folded several times until it was small enough to be lodged into the small space. Minho reaches out and dislodges it. Who'd leave paper by his door? The bracelet was weird enough on it's own, but now this? He almost doesn't read it, but eventually the same curiosity as before wins him over.

Written in neat pen, each letter carefully inked by someone who's had a lot of practice.  _Minho_ , the paper reads,  _stay away from Han Jisung_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we hit over 1000 reads! thank you so much <3
> 
> (ignore the 50 spelling mistakes in every chapter i don't proof read these at all before i post them)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we really going sad jisung hours
> 
> thank you for pointing out any mistakes! I really appreciate it <3
> 
> (i should probably look into getting a beta reader at this point tho jkskslkak)

 

**THE IN-BETWEEN**

 

This is not Eden.

That's the first thing Seungmin notices. Then he realises that the wardrobe he had been hiding inside has disappeared, and he's hurtling towards the ground. He'd suddenly been upright, but in his confusion hadn't realised the change in his position from sitting to standing. His balance, along with most of his common sense judging by the sheen of apple that coats his lips, takes a few seconds to catch up and he ends up with his lips pressed to the soft ground, wincing.

His body aches with the impact. It pushes the breath out of his lungs and winds him, emptying his mind of every thought that was already struggling to work out what had happened. One of his arms twitches with pain in a way that definitely isn't normal, but it does little more than protest when he pushes himself up, standing on shaky feet. One hand goes up to his face to wipe away the soil, and his lips sting when his fingers brush over them. They're swollen, but it's nothing a little time won't heal.

He's not hurt, not really, just bruised.

The dirt from the ground still coats his hands, getting underneath his nails. He brushes them together in an attempt to clean them off, looks up for the first time.

The world that surrounds him is not Eden. It's too open; there are no glass windows and iron gates. The land here is free. He could go off in any direction he wants, and there's nothing to stop him. No rules, no suffocating silence, no bird cage. The sun filters through the leaves at the very edge of the forest near where he stands, dappled light falling on his arms.

It's never sunny in Eden, and the very sight of a blue sky almost sends Seungmin to his knees again. He's grown up with clouds obscuring the only direction that wasn't closed off, and the sight of such a beautiful colour causes his heart to rise to his mouth. His pulse is amplified, stuttering with a deep irregular bass line that makes his head spin.

Where is he?

Seungmin's always been smart, even if he couldn't help getting distracted by Hyunjin, so he can immediately place a few of the puzzle pieces together. Right. He'd followed Hyunjin and eaten the apple, which must have caused him to wake up here, wherever  _here_ is. The sweet flavour of the fruit still stains the back of his throat, and his fingers dance across his lips absentmindedly. It would make sense- Hyunjin's disappearance could easily be explained if he'd also bitten into the apple and been transported here. It would explain all of his disappearances, now that he thought about it.

It wasn't that Seungmin hadn't looked hard enough, or that Hyunjin had been in the one place he'd never thought to check. It was that Hyunjin simply hadn't been  _in the house at all._

He'd been here, escaping their padlocked lives and running free in his own secret little world. The wind tugs at Seungmin's hair, interrupting his though process. How long has it been since he last felt the wind? His entire life has been spent hidden behind walls, the only possible fresh air reached by hanging out of windows. The breeze here is strong, causing a cascade of goosebumps down his arms, but he can't stop the grin spreading over his face.

It's refreshingly cold, and he practically lives on the feeling. Every inch of his body is on fire with liberation. He cracks open one eye, and almost as soon as he noticed it, the wind is forgotten. The world around him is not just not-Eden, _it's beautiful._

There's grass beneath his feet (Grass! Real grass, and mud and dirt and-) and between the long blades are huge circular mirrors. Something pushes Seungmin away from them, so despite their obvious beauty, he pulls his eyes away and focuses on a hill to his right. The whole thing is covered with tiny purple flowers, mixing shades of violet and indigo with the same stunningly green grass that's beneath his feet. Each petal is so small, so delicate and yet so perfect that he can't help but take a few steps forwards.

For the first time in a while, Seungmin isn't thinking of Hyunjin.

It doesn't last very long, however.

"Seungmin?" says a voice, laced with such a combination of disbelief, horror and embarrassment that Seungmin knows Hyunjin never planned to share this secret.

He turns in one swift motion to face the older. They're closer than he expected, his chest practically brushing against Hyunjin's whenever he exhales. He can practically hear the frantic beating of his heart, the cogs and gears of his brain turning slowly, struggling to work out how it's possible for Seungmin to be here.

"How- What-" he splutters, looking Seungmin up and down as if he's still unsure if he's real. One hand comes out and grips Seungmin's shoulder, fingernails digging into skin but not quite hard enough to be painful. For the first time, Seungmin notices the panic in Hyunjin's eyes, the concern mixed in with the shame.  
"Why are you here?"

"I followed you," Seungmin says plainly. There's no use lying, not when it's the obvious solution and any attempt otherwise would probably crash and burn. Maybe if it wasn't Hyunjin stood in front of him, things would be different. But it is, and Seungmin's mind is spilling the truth before his mind has even caught up.

"You followed me?"

Seungmin nods.

"Wha-" Hyunjin's hand comes off Seungmin's shoulder, going up to brush through Hyunjin's hair in the way it always does when he's stressed. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, grappling with his breath, and when he opens them there's an emotion Seungmin can't quite place mixed in with the rest. "Why?"

Seungmin frowns. "What do you mean  _why?_ Because you kept disappearing off, and no one knew where you were, and I was  _worried_ Hyunjin. I was worried."

"You were  _worried?_ " Hyunjin scoffs, and something in his tone of voice makes Seungmin step backwards. "Maybe I wanted some time alone, Minnie. Maybe I wanted to get away from the fact that apparently I can't have any time to myself without you  _stalking_  me."

Seungmin takes another step away. He's kind of glad, since Hyunjin's chest brushing against his was kind of distracting if he has to be honest, and it was making it very difficult for him to concentrate on the words spilling out of his mouth. And then what Hyunjin said sinks in, and his body is filled with a sick, unfamiliar kind of hurt.

"Stalking you?" He replies in an equally spiteful tone, "Hyunjin, you were coming back with mud all over your shoes, and you thought we wouldn't notice? We're not allowed to go outside, and yet your shoes were covered in mud."

At some point when he's talking, Hyunjin must realise how it must appear. He flinches, and tries to speak, but Seungmin's not quite finished yet.

"I know you think I'm nothing more than a pitiful crush on you, but you're the one that's been sneaking out of Eden. You found a way to leave, and you  _kept it from us."_ It wasn't particularly true, since he hadn't been following Hyunjin because of the mud. Just like the older had said, he's only followed him because he's so pathetic that he can't leave him alone for five seconds. But he's not going to admit that. Instead,he shakes his head, "Maybe I'm pitiful, but you're  _selfish_."

Hyunjin turns away, his face is flush with embarrassment. The realisation that Seungmin knows his secret is just beginning to set in. That he can't hide behind lies anymore, because Seungmin's already here. And just like that, the excuses begin to pour from his lips like warm honey. "I was going to tell you eventually," he mutters, "I just wasn't ready."

Seungmin can't help but think he sounds more like he's trying to convince himself.

But it's a thought that he pushes from his mind. Just like that, the anger that had coursed so furiously through his veins evaporates.

He knows Hyunjin didn't really mean to hide it. That he was just overwhelmed. Deep down inside him, he's sure that Hyunjin was going to bring him here, and that they'd be free together. There are thousands of reasons why he could have kept it a secret, and maybe - just  _maybe-_ Seungmin would have kept it a secret too.

(There's no way he would have. He would have taken Hyunjin as soon as he found out without a second thought)

But, beyond Hyunjin, would he really have told Felix and Jisung? He could see the appeal of hiding it; a secret escape route that only they knew. Adrenaline racing through their veins as they danced through the fields together, finally away from prying eyes.

Maybe he'd feel bad about keeping it from Felix, but was the price okay? Felix was happy at the house, right? He never complained, never fussed or went against the rules, so maybe he even  _liked_ being trapped there. He wouldn't be mad if they kept it from him, not really.

Seungmin dreads to think what would happen if Jisung found this place.

He shakes his head. It's not right, hiding something as important as this, even if it's what he wants deep down. Whatever reason Hyunjin had to keep it from them, Seungmin knows that he didn't really want to abandon them. "Of course," he says, and he gives Hyunjin the puppy-dog eyes that he knows he only pretends to resist, "But I'm here now."

Hyunjin smiles. The pink of embarrassment is starting to fade from his cheeks, now that he knows Seungmin isn't angry. "Aren't you curious to know where we are?" He asks, taking Seungmin's hand and pulling him closer until they're walking through the grass together.

"Kind of," says Seungmin. He's still trying to process everything, if he's honest. The fact that the world doesn't end at the house gates is still a tender thought in his mind. How far does this land stretch? Apart from the densely forested stretch of woodland behind him, there's not another boundary for miles. How long could he walk without being stopped by twisted metal and clear screens of glass?

"From what I've worked out, the fields seem to be a corridor of sorts. It connects Eden," he gestures back to the sparkling air where Seungmin had appeared, "and Earth." He points to their right, at another section of trees that mirror the ones behind them.

"Earth?"

Hyunjin grabs his hand, pulling him towards the trees with a renewed excitement. "Oh God, Seungmin it's  _beautiful._ The air there is warm, and you can go wherever you want, and it's sunny all the time and  _filled_ with people."

Something clicks in Seungmin's mind. "Is that where you bought the cassette?"

Hyunjin nods. His hair comes down from where he'd pushed it back earlier, falling into his eyes. "There was a man in the shop, and he gave it to me to-" he trails off, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "He gave it to me to give to you."

His words are filled with just the right kind of awkwardness that Seungmin knows he's not telling him something. But at this moment in time, he doesn't particularly care about the hidden meaning behind his words. He's here, and he's here with Hyunjin. "Take me there?"

"Of course." Hyunjin grins in response. They reach the shimmering air just as he speaks, and he grips Seungmin's hand tighter than ever before.

Now that they're closer, Seungmin can see it more clearly. Much like where he came from Eden, the doorway to Earth glistens with refracted light. There's a small pond just visible between the trees behind it, and the contrast in colour between where it's hidden by the doorway and not is astounding. The world through the portal  _shines._ It's the only way to describe it- every colour is brighter that normal, every inch of light glistening with tiny shards of rainbows.

"Are you ready?" He asks Hyunjin when the older doesn't speak again, though it's more a question he's aiming at himself.

Is he?

Is he ready?

There are so many thoughts in his mind, a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities that make his stomach twist and turn. Is he ready? He doesn't know what he'll find on the other side of that doorway. He still doesn't know how it's even possible for him to be here. In a strange way, he can't help but think this is all a dream. That he'll wake up as soon as he takes the step forwards, and go back to being a bird in a gilded cage.

But Hyunjin smiles at him.

Seungmin will trust Hyunjin. He always has, and he always will. The stuttering beat of his heart whenever he gets too close keeps his mind alert, the breathlessness when they make eye contact reminds him he's not imagining this.

It's not a dream, it  _can't be._

This is reality. Hyunjin's grip on his hand, his own nails digging into his palm on the other. The pain is real, the anger he'd felt is real. Maybe he's not ready, but he doesn't care.

He steps forwards.

And nothing happens.

The doorways splutters, disappearing as if it were never there in the first place. A lock placed on something that shouldn't be locked up. The swirling air has completely gone, and the world where the gate used to be seems grey and drained of life. The breeze whips through his hair again, but it's not quite as soothing as last time.

There's someone standing behind them.

 

 

**EDEN**

 

Felix almost doesn’t notice the room. It’s a door he must have walked past thousands of time, he has lived in this house for as long as he can remember, but there’s something different about it now. Before, it had been just another door in a row of identical ones, lining corridors that felt endless. Felix wasn’t particularly one for exploring either. He much preferred to stick to the rooms he already knew. There just wasn’t an appeal, not since the fight.

He’s on his way to the room where he keeps the bracelet-making kit. It’s one of the last doors down this stretch of the house, and the only one that actually contains items of any value. If it weren’t for him and Seungmin, the walls here would be coated with a thick layer of dust, the spiders that lived in the cracks of the walls reclaiming what was once theirs.

It wouldn’t be the first-time parts of the house were avoided at all costs.

There are stables coming off from one of the kitchens that have never been used, since there are no animals to inhabit the wooden structure, and none of them can ride a horse anyway.

The door to the second baths on the third floor still has a chair wedged under the handle, since Jisung _swore_ he’d seen a ghost and declared that the creaking of the ancient pipes was not pipes at all, but instead some sort of malicious spirit. Felix doubts he was telling the truth, but it had freaked Hyunjin out enough to seal off the door forever. (Secretly, he’s glad Hyunjin had said something, because he would have had to avoid that corridor for months otherwise)

There’s a room opposite the laundry room that contains nothing but a single shoe. It was after that discovery that they’d decided to take a break from exploring for a while, as they were running out of chairs to sit on.

And no one’s been in the room where Hyunjin and Jisung tried to kill each other since the fight happened, since no amount of scrubbing could remove the large copper-coloured stain from the stone floor.

A single spider descends from the ceiling, drifting towards Felix as the draught creeping through cracks in the ancient walls spins it in circles. He reaches up and plucks it from the arm, letting it explore the ridges of his palm before finally releasing it back onto the floor. It scuttles off into a dark corner, probably to join its family.

Felix watches it go. He knows it’s pretty pathetic to be jealous of a spider, but he can’t help the feeling bubbling up inside him.

It’s only when he stands up that he notices the door. He’s never stopped in this part of the corridor before, so it’s understandable he only notices it now. Light spills out from where the door is ajar, lighting up the patterns on the faded carpet. Very faintly, he can just about make out shuffling sounds from inside.

He frowns. This isn’t normal. The only other person he’s ever seen down this part of the house before is Seungmin, and it can’t be him inside because he’d given Felix some terrible excuse about needing to water plants or something. Seungmin may act like a fool when he’s around Hyunjin, but Felix knows he’s smart. He wouldn’t purposefully avoid Felix only to hide where he knew he’d be later.

So, it’s not Seungmin. Which means it’s either Hyunjin or Jisung. Either of whom don’t usually frequent this part of the house, so whatever they’re doing here cannot be good.

For lack of a better survival instinct, Felix pushes open the door.

“Felix?” Says Jisung as he steps into the room. He’s sat in a huge chair, the soft fabric practically swallowing him when he pulls his legs to his chest. He looks tiny, dwarfed by the rest of the furniture in the room. It doesn’t help that his eyes widen in a way that makes him look like a child, so innocent that Felix can almost forget what he’s done. Several other chairs line up beside his, creating a semicircle of which Felix is now standing in the middle of.

It feels like he’s being inspected. As if there are more eyes than Jisung’s watching him as he takes another step forward.

“Jisung?” Felix counters the question with one of his own, “What are you doing here?”

And just like that, Jisung’s mood changes His eyes narrow, hardening like cold steel and he pulls his legs impossibly closer him. “Sitting.”

“Sitting?” Felix was half expecting him to fire back with an insult, or at least to include some sort of swear word in his reply. Instead, his voice lacks its normal venom, something much more desperate hiding behind. “What, just sitting? Why would you just sit by yourself?”

Really, he can’t blame himself for being suspicious. The slightly older boy wakes a strange kind of fear inside him, one that he can’t quiet put a finger on him. The world seems to darken when he’s around, and the fact he only seems to speak in harsh tones and derogatory tones doesn’t help.

Jisung stands up. He makes his way across the room, pushing the door open to leave just like Felix had expected him to. But he pauses in the doorway, making eye contact he stands beside him. “Because no one else will.”

And then he’s gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jisung is really going through it, huh

 

**The In-Between**

 

 

Chan's standing a few feet away from the two boys. Just far away that he can hear them talking but not close enough that he can make out the words. He doesn't think they've noticed him yet, though it's not surprising since they're just as oblivious to Changbin's presence and he's standing even closer away.

From the distance, and as he takes another step closer, he realises he recognises one of them. That's not surprising either. There's a very short list of people who pass through this side of reality; three names in total.

Changbin.

Chan.

And the boy. He's tall and quite handsome, with a single mole underneath one eye which sets off the rest of his features nicely. It's the kind of face that always seems familiar even if it isn't, the kind of smile that asks you to trust it despite the world burning around it. Somehow, he's managed to enter a place that he shouldn't even know exists.

Something about him sets Chan on edge.

What's even more worrying is that he hasn't just been here once. Rather he's appeared more than a few times since Chan woke up and even more since Changbin created the place. He's never noticed them, and never spends more than a few minutes in the corridor between worlds.

His very existence here is strange, impossible even, and Chan had wanted to confront him the first time he'd seen him, but Changbin had asked him to wait. His hand had fluttered over Chan's, an unspoken warning of time and confusion. He had a point.

The In-Between is  _supposed_ to be only accessible to them.

The Woods had told them so. It had even been created by Changbin, a pocket dimension that was only there if you knew what you were looking for. He knows the rules inside and out, the words ingrained into his mind like the dark letters of a tattoo: The only way into Earth and Eden is through the pockets of shimmering air. It wrapped around the traveller like a warm blanket sitting heavy on your skin, keeping a leash on your mind just tight enough that Chan and Changbin could control which part of Earth they appeared in.

They were the only ones who knew of its existence, the only ones who had been blessed by The Woods with the knowledge of the Mobius strip. It had always been that way, and it with the exception of their un-decided third puzzle piece, that's the way it would stay.

And yet the boy-  _Hyunjin,_ Chan had heard the other boy call him- was here anyway.

There was only a small bit of relief amongst the confusion; however he was getting to the In-Between, it wasn't through their portals. His entrances lacked the familiar poking at Chan's soul, a harmless pinch that took his breath away and remained proof of his attachment to this place. There was no telling how dangerous it was for anyone other than the Fated Three to use their portals.

As The Woods had explained, when the mirror world broke away, every soul in the universe had been created in one side of reality, anchoring themselves there. Travelling anywhere else could cause the same type of corruption that had caused Chan's initiation to go wrong.

Changbin had explained everything when he'd finally woken up, sunlight in his eyes and skin prickling with the last remains of frost melting away. He's explained that he hadn't known what would happen if someone other than him used the portal, that he's thought it would be safe. He hadn't expected Chan's soul to fracture, parts refusing to accept his passage through the world correctly and ripping themselves apart in the process.

But now isn't the time to reminisce over his lost memories. He feels the familiar twitch of the In-Between as the other boy reaches out. His fingers brush through the sparkling air, his mouth dropping at the unfamiliar feeling. Chan can't blame him; the silken touch of the portal is like the lightest of water sitting heavy. It swirls around him in a beautiful haze, mist painting the air in delicate rainbows. It leads to Earth, but by the look on the boy's face, Chan doesn't think he particularly cares where he ends up.

Anywhere away from wherever he came from.

He almost feels bad when Changbin glances behind him and nods, signalling the start. Between them, they force the portal shut, slamming the gate closed so quickly that Hyunjin barely has enough time to remove his fingers from the firing line. For a few seconds he's confused, the boy next to him slightly more cautious as he's the first one to look back.

"How did you get here?" says Changbin.

The boy glances to Hyunjin, letting go of his hand to tug at his sleeve and pulling him to attention. "Jinnie,"

His eyes travel over Changbin slowly, taking in the scene. He notices Chan in the distance and raises his eyebrows, asking a silent question about why he's hanging back. Chan smiles at him in reply, stepping closer until he's opposite the boy and can finally take in the finer details of his face.

And he  _swears he's seen him before._

Puppy-like visuals, soft brown hair flopping into his eyes, a mole on his cheek. There's something strange about him, something that doesn't quite seem right, but Chan can't put his finger on it. It sits right at the edge of his memory, the part where he can only just brush his fingertips against the bottom even when he stands on tiptoes. He searches the boy's eyes for any sign of recognition mirrored in them, but he only frowns at him, tugging at Hyunjin's sleeve again.

Hyunjin finally,  _finally_ turns around and his mouth falls into a tiny 'o' shape. It opens and closes a few times as his mind struggles to catch up with what this means. "How did  _you_ get here?" He counters, before realising that it probably wasn't the smartest idea since the left eyes of both Chan and Changbin glow softly with the residual light of using their powers.

"We created this place," says Changbin. He looks Hyunjin right in the eyes, letting the ring of blue around his pupil pulse threateningly before continuing, "We have every right to be here, and we don't need to explain ourselves to you. How did you get here?"

Hyunjin gulps. He glances at the boy and opens  his mouth-

"Seungmin." Chan says at the same time Hyunjin says "Minnie, we-"

Whatever he was going to say dies on his tongue. They look at each other in shock for a few seconds, both taken back by the name. Where had it come from? Nothing of Chan remains apart from the secret of the bracelet that sits nestled in his pocket, and yet this is obviously the boy's name going by his reaction.

_Seungmin._

He knows it, because even if his mind doesn't quite remember, his tongue does.

Seungmin drops Hyunjin's hand and takes a step backwards. He's on edge now, Chan notices, his posture straighter and eyes narrowed. Even through the disappearance of the portal, even through the glassy amazement in his eyes when he'd arrived, he'd kept up an air of confidence around him. Chan speaking his name sends all that crumbling around him.

And then, just as suddenly as it had fallen, the wall around him is back and stronger than ever. The ice in his eyes has spread to his bones, fire and suspicion tinging every one of his words. "Do I know you?"

Does he?

Changbin looks at him, just as confused as he is. "Do you?" He mouths, but Chan still can't answer.

Does he?

It's not possible. He'd know if he'd met Seungmin before, because he wouldn't be standing right now. The universe keeps him and anyone else who could possibly recognise him apart, if not by chance then filling his lungs with a burning fire. He can't have met Seungmin before, because he's not in agony. There's no trace of his presence on Seungmin's soul, nothing for the universe to declare that they've ever even passed each other in the street.

But how does he know his name?

The name Seungmin falling off his lips without him even realising doesn't make sense. None of it does, and yet there's a tiny voice in the back of his head that tells him he recognises the boy. His face remains printed on his eyelids when he shuts his eyes, an expression that he can't have seen before but seems  _so familiar._

"No," he eventually says, shaking his head, "You don't."

Seungmin doesn't seem to believe him. His eyes haven't looked away from Chan, and he raises himself even higher, standing straight up to his full height. "How did you know my name, then?"

Chan's mouth goes dry. The truth doesn't sound believable, and he can't think of a single lie that would make the situation any better. His mind races for some kind of excuse that makes sense, but comes up blank.

"Does it matter?" Says Changbin, cutting in before Chan can even begin to stutter out whatever convoluted explanation his mind had provided, "You're trespassing. Don't avoid the question again: how did you get here?"

Hyunjin glares at the floor. "Minnie, let's leave."

Seungmin frowns again, this time deeper. "Hyunjin..." he says, as the other boy takes his hand and starts to lead him past Chan. The movement causes him to break eye contact with the older, and for a split second his eyes dart back to where the doorway once was. There's such longing in his expression, at being so close to something so sweet only to have it ripped away. The flavour of freedom, such addictive blue skies and grassy fields haven't sunk their teeth into him just yet, and it allows him to understand.

He understands what Hyunjin doesn't, not yet.

Changbin smiles. It's not a happy smile, but it's there to reassure. They still have the upper hand. "You know," he starts, gesturing for Chan to come closer to him until they're standing shoulder to shoulder, "If you leave now, you can't come back."

Hyunjin stops in his tracks.

Chan can't help but smile himself, his face mirroring Changbin's. Freedom is the sweetest drug, and he can see in Hyunjin's eyes that he's already addicted. He'll listen to them. He'll tell them how he got here. He has to.

"You saw how we closed that portal, didn't you?"

He doesn't actually need to speak the threat. The implication is buried under the question, just below the surface. The teasing lilt, emphasising how  _easy_ it would be for them to simply close off the In-Between to the rest of the world.

There's something in the tone of his voice that does't sit well with Hyunjin, because when he turns back round, his face is stormy. Clouds bubble under his skin, lightning crackling around his head with the warning of pure-red rage. His eyebrows are practically joined together, a desperate attempt to disguise the painfully clear emotions in his glassy eyes. Under all that, it's almost laughably obvious that he's just scared.

He's scared, because he's not ready to leave.

Chan has to admit, what Changbin is doing is clever. They don't have a way to seal off the portals. However Hyunjin's been arriving is so unfamiliar that the rip in the universe connecting The In-Between to Eden is there so briefly that they'd never be strong enough to stop it. Whatever causes it is stronger than Chan's ever seen before, and maybe that thought should scare him a bit more than it actually does.

It's dangerous, something unknown that must come from  _before_  the mirror-world split by how unpredictable it acts. There's no telling how dangerous it is, even though Hyunjin and Seungmin appear free from corruption it's impossible to know what effects it has on the stability of the universe. Chan's only been here for a few days, but he already knows that nothing comes without consequences.

But somehow, the knowledge that Hyunjin and Seungmin have no idea how it works is comforting.

If they did know how it worked, Chan and Changbin would have no leverage over them.

Seungmin shakes his head. He already seems too sensible to be mixed up in all of this, too intelligent to fall for such an obvious bluff. Chan wouldn't expect him to be the type of person to end up travelling through a potentially dangerous portal, but he's seen how the boy looks at Hyunjin. The brightest stars in the sky couldn't rival his expression when the other boy took his hand, the smile splitting his face in half so blinding that it's a miracle Hyunjin hasn't noticed yet.

He's so madly in love that Chan can only hope it's not his down bringing.

Hyunjin isn't quite as perceptive. His views are so clouded by the concept of freedom that he can't think clearly, can't get his thoughts straight enough to question whether Changbin's words have any real value behind them. Instead, he crosses his arms, "You wouldn't."

"Do you really want to test that theory?"

He doesn't. He so desperately doesn't that it's almost painful to watch. Eventually, he glances at Seungmin one last time and bites his lip, "What do you want to know?"

Chan grins. "How did you get here?" He asks, speaking for the first time since he uttered Seungmin's name.

"Shouldn't you already know that, if you're the 'owners' of this place?" bites Seungmin, calling them out on their bullshit so easily that Chan almost thinks their plan is about to crumble.

Luckily, Hyunjin isn't willing to take the same chance. He flinches back at Seungmin's words, barely even letting him finish before rushing to explain. "There was a wardrobe in the house, and when you ate the apple you suddenly arrived here, except we didn't even know where 'here' was at first."

Chan and Changbin look at each other at the same time. "Apple?" Chan says, at the same time Changbin says "Wardrobe?"

Seungmin sighs, not satisfied with Hyunjin's explanation. "A room in the house that we grew up in had a wardrobe in. We weren't supposed to be there, since we split the rooms between the four of us, but-" He pauses, glancing at Hyunjin and thinking over his words before continuing "We were playing hide-and-seek. Jinnie hid in the wardrobe, except for some reason there was an apple already in there."

"An apple." Changbin repeats.

Seungmin shrugs. "I was just as confused as you are. The apple- it wasn't even rotten or anything- and as soon as I bit into it, I was stepping out by the trees over there." He gestures over to a line of trees that border the field, "Listen, I know it sounds strange but it's the tr-"

"Truth." Chan finishes. He didn't really know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't this. Yet, he's heard stranger. Considering they're in a magical field that acts as a gateway between realities, as instructed by a bunch of talking trees he's not really surprised.

Hyunjin stands a little straighter. "Can we go now? We answered your stupid questions."

"Not yet," says Changbin. He looks meaningfully at Chan, gesturing for the older boy to join him. Chan knows what he's about to say- he'd been thinking the exact same thing only a few seconds ago. They stand closer together so Hyunjin and Seungmin can't hear them, hearts beating as one in the crackling air.

"They're from Eden."

Changbin nods. "And there's only four souls there." It's true. They're still looking for their last puzzle piece, and if there are only four people in the whole of Eden then there's a 50/50 chance that either Seungmin or Hyunjin will complete the trio.

Except they're not.

Chan's only felt it once before, right as he woke up in the In-Between. The warmth of two souls pressed up against his, their pain and happiness shared with his. He could recognise Changbin's gentle touches and the other soul's burning anger.

Neither of the boys in front of them matched that intensity.

"It's not them," says Changbin, speaking what had been at the tip of Chan's tongue. They're too quiet, too subdued. Too caught up in each other to ever leave everything behind. Colours much too soft, hearts not cold enough.

"But they might know who is."

Changbin smiles, showing he'd been thinking the same thing. In one swift motion, he turns around and presses a finger to Hyunjin's chest. The boy jumps at the sudden movement, pushing his hand away whilst scowling. Changbin doesn't seem to care though, since he continues without even batting an eyelid, "We'll make a deal."

Seungmin scoffs. "We don't really have a choice," he says, pulling Hyunjin away from where he looks like he's about to punch Changbin.

"Free access to Earth. You never have to talk to us again, as long as you stay out of our way. Safe passage and all that."

"And what's the catch?"

Chan can't help but nod at Seungmin's words. He's caught on quickly, not letting himself be backed into a corner. "We need a third partner. It has to be someone from Eden, and since you know the only other people there, you can take them here."

Hyunjin and Seungmin look at each other. It's the kind of look that exchanges more than words, something that only the participants understand. Chan feels his heart sink. They're not going to do it.

He's not surprised. These are the people they've grown up with, and now they're being asked to choose between them to practically sacrifice one of them. It's an impossible decision, and one Chan would never have been able to make.

"There are... consequences, right?" questions Seungmin.

Changbin nods. "You won't be able to see them again. And even if you did, they wouldn't recognise you." He stops, before seeing their expressions and rushing to add, "Nothing bad will happen to them, I promise. They'll be happy, they just won't remember anything."

And then he stops again, because Hyunjin is smiling. It's small, but genuine, and so utterly bizarre that Chan can't help but wonder if he missed something.

"We accept the deal," Hyunjin says. He takes Seungmin's hand again, squeezing it in a way that's obviously meant to reassure. "We accept safe passage in exchange for Han Jisung."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've hit over 100 kudos and 1500 hits!! thank you all so much ahhhh <3 <3 i really appreciate it 
> 
> please leave a comment if you like the fic so far!!! they f u e l me


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit shorter than usual but i didn't think adding another segment would work

 

 

  
**EARTH**

 

Earth is just as warm as Hyunjin had described it. The heat sticks to his skin and gets under his clothes. The air here is different to Eden and the doorway world, heavier and damper. It feels weird to breathe it in, even the scent of the flowers growing in the gardens next to them overpowering. He feels overdressed in his jacket, having to take it off within the first few minutes of stepping through the portal and tying it around his waist.

The skies are just as blue as he'd imagined, stretching endlessly above his head without a cloud in sight. The leaves of the trees brush against his face when he moves, tickling his skin a way that should be uncomfortable but isn't.

It's beautiful. The place he'd always dreamed of without ever actually knowing of its existence. And yet he can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.

He can still feel the eyes of the two boys staring at the back of his head. Faintly glowing in a way that made his skin crawl. God, he can't help but think they'd made the wrong decision. Surely there was something else they could've done. Another bargain they could've made, or maybe he should have trusted his instincts and called them out on their threats.

He didn't like Jisung, but that didn't mean he was about to throw him to the wolves.

Hyunjin had made the deal so easily. There had been a strange sheen to his eyes that unsettled him, his fingernails pressed so hard into his palm the indents were still there now. And yet he hadn't even asked for Seungmin's opinion, hadn't even taken a breath before accepting the exchange.

"Hyunjin..."

Hyunjin turns around, and Seungmin trails off without really meaning to. Hyunjin's eyes are rimmed with red, his cheeks pink and lip wobbling. Even from this distance, Seungmin can see how shaky his breathing s, his usually prefect hair sticking up at strange angles. "Did I do the right thing?"

"What?" Seungmin's brain stutters for a second, struggling to catch up with what his ears are hearing. He's just been about to ask him whether he thought he'd made the right decision, and had not been expecting o be asked the same thing.

Hyunjin steps closer and takes his hand. He squeezes it, not to reassure Seungmin as he's done before, but to ground himself. "Did I do the right thing? Jisung, will he be happy now?"

That takes Seungmin by surprise. "Why do you care about Jisung?" he asks, squeezing Hyunjin's hand back. Maybe it sounds a bit harsh, but it's what he's thinking honestly. Since when have Hyunjin and Jisung been close enough to care about each other? As far as Seungmin knew, they could barely stay in the same room for more than ten seconds without fighting. It's possible that he'd missed out on them making up, but that just seems so  _unlikely._

He simply can't imagine Jisung being able to swallow his pride and apologise.

Hyunjin shakes his head. If he was close to tears before, then he's now mere seconds away from curling up into a ball on the pavement and sobbing. "I- He- Don't say that, Minnie. He's not happy there. None of us are, you know that, but even if we get out he's not going to be happy."

"What do you mean?" asks Seungmin, although he already knows exactly what Hyunjin means.

"He's never going to be able to forgive us, is he."

Maybe there was a period where things could've been made right. Redemption, in its purest form, mixed with the paint that covers Jisung's walls. But now it's way too late to fix everything that's gone wrong, and Seungmin knows Jisung will never be the same. Hyunjin's words hit harder than he'd like to admit, and he bites his lip.

"Hyunjin-"

"God, Minnie, I should have done something. I just- I couldn't-"

"Hey," he puts his other hand on Hyunjin's shoulder, rubbing circles into his skin with his thumb. Hyunjin wipes at his eyes, staring at the ground. "It's not your fault. You weren't expected to apologise any more than he was."

"But-"

"Hyunjin, have you ever purposefully riled him up?"

Hyunjin frowns, his eyes still watering slightly. "What do you mean? No, I- I would never say anything on purpose-"

"Exactly." Seungmin pulls him closer, tighter until their chests are pressed against each other and Hyunjin's head is resting on his shoulder. His skin is on fire from where they're touching, every moment he's ever dreamed about finally coming alive, but  _he'd never wanted it to be like this._ "You can't forget that it's Jisung who starts the fights. Every time- Every single time, Jinnie. It's not your fault."

He doesn't reply immediately. Instead, Seungmin can feel him rest more of his weight against him, finally letting go of his hand and wrapping his arms around him. "Will he be happy there?"

And Seungmin finally understands why Hyunjin did it.

Not to get rid of his rival, to stop the endless fights that lingered at the edge of every single day and made breathing round them almost impossible. Not because of the insults that beat down his self-confidence, the fact that Jisung never seemed bothered about the foul words that left his mouth. Not to leave Jisung somewhere that they'd never see him, to exclaim 'good riddance' and laugh in the face of a boy who remembered nothing.

Not because he hated Jisung at all. In a strange sense of the word, it was because he loved him.

It was true. They'd left him alone for too long, let him get wrapped up in his warped perception of the world, let him believe everything was more cruel than he deserved. It wasn't right to exclude him, Seungmin knew that, but Jisung was  _dangerous._

Letting him forget was giving him a new start with people that wouldn't hurt him as much as they had. It was allowing him to begin again, this time without the pain and the hurt and the loneliness. It would give him a family like he deserved.

"He'll be happy," says Seungmin, and he believes it. He believes it with every inch of his being, with every cell him his body that clutches onto Hyunjin because it's the only emotion other than fear he's ever really felt.

"And what about Felix?"

"Felix?"

Hyunjin's breath is already warm through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and the puff of air he lets out in response to Seungmin's words sends shivers down his spine. "We can't leave him alone in there."

Seungmin hadn't even thought of that. Felix, all alone in the maze of a house whilst him and Hyunjin were free. He hadn't even considered the older boy, not even when he'd blown him off earlier that day with a truly awful excuse. He's been so caught up in following Hyunjin that he hadn't even considered how he might be feeling.

But he knew Felix could handle it.

He was strong, stronger than the others gave him credit for. Always calm and never needing to talk about his emotions, a presence in the background that supported Seungmin when the world became too much. He could handle being alone for a few more hours, right?

Just enough time to let Seungmin wander around Earth. Just for a while, not long enough for anything so terrible to happen.

"Next time," he murmurs, resting his own head on Hyunjin's shoulder. "Next time, he'll come with us." 

The puzzle pieces begin to come together in his head. The bare bones of a plan, the skeleton of what could fix everything. A way to get Jisung to leave of his own will, since he'd never listen to them, and a way to free Felix from the birdcage of the house. If it worked... they'd never have to return to the house again. 

They could leave Eden for once and for all. Free from the stone walls, the mist that pressed up against the windows, and the rules written into their very veins. They could stay here, in this land of sun and heat.

"It'll all be okay," he says as Hyunjin sniffs again, and he believes it. 

"Jisung will be happy," he says.

And he believes it.

 

 

**EARTH**

 

Minho doesn't pick up the phone, and really, Jeongin isn't surprised. It doesn't stop him reaching to press the 'call' button again though, despite the five times he's already attempted giving a pretty good indication of whether Minho's having a good day or not. Seungmin stops him before he can quite reach it though, shaking his head.

"He's not going to answer that."

"You don't know that!" protests Jeongin, before realising, "Okay, maybe you do know that."

He slides the phone back into his pocket and sighs. They're stood on Minho's porch, both crammed into the small space that's really only meant for one person at a time to escape the harsh sun. Minho's doorbell is warm, despite being in the shade, from how long Jeongin's finger had been pressed up against it in an last-ditch attempt to try and get his attention.

"Surely he won't be able to stand the noise for  _that_ long," he'd said, and oh how foolish he'd been.  It had been ten excruciating minutes before his finger cramped so much that he physically couldn't push it any longer. He'd even had Seungmin press the button down throughout his second and third phone-call attempts, to no such luck.

It's undeniable at this point.

Minho is avoiding them.

"Maybe he's just not here?" Jeongin suggests. "He could be at school, or at the park. We could check the shops- ooh, if we buy all the strawberry milks and juice boxes he'll  _have_  to talk to us."

Seungmin simply shakes his head again. "Firstly, it's the weekend. Secondly, neither of us have enough money to buy more than five cartons combined."

Jeongin pouts. Okay, so yeah, maybe he has a point, but he's just about to counter back when Seungmin points at something behind him. "Thirdly, I just saw him behind the kitchen curtains."

"What?" Jeongin jumps out from the porch so quickly that he almost surprises himself, practically stumbling over with the change in momentum. He leaps over a hideous garden gnome holding a cat and starts hammering on the window. The sun is already too hot, and the glass underneath his fists is  _not_  as cool as he would have hoped. "Hey! Let us in!"

"He's ignoring us for a reason. He won't reply."

"You can't avoid us forever! You have to leave at some point!"

"He's probably already gone. You're shouting at an empty room right now."

Jeongin decides to ignore Seungmin, and continues yelling. He can just about see through the thin fabric if he really squints. There's a fan somewhere inside that blows at the curtains every so often, letting the light fabric flutter up and revealing that the room is-

Okay, so maybe the room is empty.

He slumps against the window, letting his forehead rest against the burning glass and making sure that when his hands slide pitifully down with a horrendous squeaking noise they leave extra-large grease stains. "I bet he has a whole vault of yogurt drinks anyway."

"He doesn't." replies Seungmin, not quite catching onto the fact that it was supposed to be a joke. "He owns one normal fridge and one mini-fridge."

"That's not what I meant-" says Jeongin, rubbing his temples. The heat is already beginning to give him a headache, even if he's only been in the sun for a few minutes. The familiar sticky taste of dehydration coats the back of his throat. It's all the talk of milkshakes, he decides, making him thirsty when he only finished his water bottle a little while ago. "It was a j-" He frowns, "Wait. Since when did Minho have a mini-fridge?"

"He stole it"

"He  _stole it_?"

Seungmin smiles, the strange half-smile he does when he knows it's when other people would smile. Nowhere near being real, but just close enough to let them know he's trying. Just close enough to remind them he's just as fake as the smile he plasters on his face.

"You're joking." Jeongin finally realises, relieved for a second that Minho hadn't actually stolen a kitchen appliance, and then mildly concerned at how willing he'd been to accept that as true.

"Was it funny?" says Seungmin. His eye is glowing slightly brighter, and Jeongin realises that he hadn't reacted very well. He couldn't really blame himself since he hadn't been expecting it, but it was Seungmin's first attempt at humour and he was a terrible friend for not laughing.

He smiles (hoping Seungmin can't tell that it's not quite real), and tugs him away from the house, beginning the long walk to the roller-skating rink. "It was funny."

Seungmin frowns, "You didn't laugh. Aren't you supposed to laugh when things are funny?"

"I'm just worried about Minho." It's the truth, and it's not like Seungmin is going to tell anyone else. There's no one else to tell. "When was the last time we saw him outside? The last time we saw him go to school? He's been acting weird for ages, but this..."

Seungmin doesn't reply. He doesn't know what to say, and Jeongin can't blame him for staying silent. He has no idea either. Maybe if he did, they wouldn't be in this situation, with Minho's house getting further and further away and Minho becoming more and more alone.

It's not his problem to solve, and he  _knows that,_ but he wishes he could fix everything anyway.

Like Chan. If Chan was here, he would know how to fix everything in less that a minute. He'd snap his fingers and Woojin would stop worrying, he'd knock on the door once and Minho would be coaxed out by his sweet words. He could help Jeongin with his homework again, the piles of paper by the side of his bed that were two sheets away from toppling over. He'd laugh at Seungmin's jokes.

If Chan was here, there wouldn't be a problem to solve in the first place.

Jeongin sighs. Pushes a hand through his hair and checks his phone again. Not to call Minho again, but to see if Woojin had responded to his invitation. There's about as much point as there had been to phoning Minho, but it doesn't stop him from feeling disappointed when he sees the inevitable message.

_Sorry, Innie, but I'm meeting with the school about Chan_

_They don't think he's missing, which is some bullshit, and if I make it through the whole thing without punching someone it'll be a miracle_

_Next time?_

Jeongin winces at the use of the swear word and turns his phone off for good. Woojin's words hang just behind his eyelids, so unlike Woojin that it's almost scary how much the boy has changed since Chan's disappearance. No one blames him for taking it badly, but he can't seem to let go of the possibility that he's gone. Jeongin's seen him walking up and down his road with a flashlight more times than he can count.

Next time.

Yeah, right.

"Looks like it's just us again, huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment if you liked the chapter!!! i love seeing what people think hnnng
> 
> also, quick question: would you prefer it if i mad the chapters longer? i always worry that they're too short :(


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stream everyday i love you

 

 

**EARTH**

 

When Seungmin looks up, Hyunjin is smiling at him. It's not creepy or off-putting in any way, simply as if he'd been watching him and found whatever Seungmin was doing interesting. He grins even wider when he sees Seungmin's blush, taking his hand and pulling him up from the seat.

"What, seeing me tie my shoelaces is that interesting?" Seungmin says curtly, but there's no real bite to his voice and Hyunjin knows it's a joke. He watches as he puts one foot out tentatively, testing the roller-skates.

"Maybe. You were concentrating so hard." He coughs into his hand, trying to disguise a laugh, before seeing Seungmin's unamused expression. "You looked like a puppy. Like, when they can't work out where the ball went and it's because the ball was never thrown in the first place."

Seungmin must've pouted, because Hyunjin waves his hands frantically, "No- no, it was a compliment, I swear!" He crosses his arms and huffs, going to take a step forwards but forgetting he's wearing roller-skates and ending up wobbling dangerously. "It was cute."

_You're cute_ , Seungmin wants to say, but he's already being dragged away and he leaves the words behind where he was standing. He's feeling much more confident here, in this new world, but he's not quite at the point of flirting.

Yet.

They're both equally as bad as each other, he soon finds out. He hadn't expected to be any good- although Eden had a lot of things, a skating rink was not one of them- so they'd never had a chance to practice before. But there are kids surrounding them who looked about five, and practically doing pirouettes. Seungmin is very quickly finding out that it was a lot harder than it looked.

Hyunjin nudges him, pushing him forwards slightly towards a paper sign with an arrow on it, directing skaters to the rink. The action causes him to almost topple over, not quite used to the wheels on his feet yet. In a wild spread of his arms in an attempt to slow his fall, he grabs onto Hyunjin and clings to the older boy. Their skin is pressed up against each other, stained red from the heat of the sun outside and the blush that slowly creeps up their faces. 

He almost pushes him away. Apologises with a red face and leave, content with admiring from afar like always. But he doesn't. It's different here,  _he's_  different here, and he doesn't need to shy away any more. Instead of pulling himself from his grip, he sinks into it. Seungmin grabs Hyunjin's hand, and grins at him. Together they waddle to the rink.

The receptionist stares at them as they go past. Her lips are coated with recently-blown bubblegum, the ancient computer on her desk whirring like it's about to take off. Seungmin can see their shoes on the shelf behind her, covered in mud and so different to the other sandals that line the shelves. She'd looked shy when they'd turned up, muttered something about taster sessions and refused to make eye-contact with Hyunjin. They hadn't minded, since the free skates meant they didn't have to pay, but her eyes looking Hyunjin up and down had been unsettling.

Seungmin makes sure to grip Hyunjin even tighter as they pass now, squeezing his hand in a silent message. 

Despite several close calls, their hands having to clutch at the walls and faces almost kissing the ground several times, they make it to the rink in one piece. And it takes his breath away,

The whole place is plastered with nineties-themed posters, a girl with soft pink hair and denim dungarees featuring in most of them. Sticking to the aesthetic, a DJ in the corner plays old songs from his speaks, the familiar melodies striking Seungmin as the same ones from his cassettes. The whole room glows with a soft pink light, occasionally rainbow filters passing over the spotlights and causing the walls to erupt in colour.

Hyunjin immediately drags him to the edge of the rink, ignoring Seungmin's protests that neither of them are good enough yet, and sure enough they're spend spinning around the circle on increasingly unsteady legs. The DJ glances at them as they go past, shrieking and clinging to each other like it's the last night of their lives. He looks to the entrance, and then back to Seungmin before shaking his head and going back to mixing the music.

They continue that way for a while, making about one and a half laps of the rink before Hyunjin decides it's a good idea to speed up. He pulls Seungmin along by his hand again, and Seungmin doesn't have it in him to let go, even if he knows how this is going to end up.

Seungmin can feel the stares of the local kids burning holes into their backs, going from their appalling roller-skating skills to their intertwined hands. He winces when Hyunjin spirals out of control and ends up going face-first into a wall, Seungmin only narrowly avoiding the same fate by grabbing onto a nearby pile of chairs in an attempt to slow himself down. It doesn't work, largely because the chairs are too unstable and he just ends up pulling them down on top of him.

Hyunjin laughs from where he's now leaning against the wall, and Seungmin glares back before noticing the red patch he's holding tentatively on his forehead and laughing with him. What a pair they make.

"I don't think we're cut out for rollerskating," Hyunjin says eventually, wiping tears away from his eyes. They glisten in the disco-lighting, his skin lit up with a rainbow of colours but glowing with more than just the light. He holds out his hand for Seungmin, helping him pull himself out of the avalanche of chairs.

Seungmin shakes his head. "Nope," he says, righting one of the chairs and sitting on it. Hyunjin does the same to his side, and they stretch out their legs to the very edge of the rink, watching the kids speed past. "Maybe with some practice, though."

That causes the grin on Hyunjin's face to grow even wider. He takes Seungmin's hand, "Oh, and we  _can_  practice. We can come here whenever we want, Minnie.  _Whenever we want!_ "

It hasn't quite sunk in yet. They're free. They can do whatever they want, go wherever they want. There are no more rules stop them. Here, in the corner of a small nineties-themed rollerskating rink, they're free. It sends happy butterflies fluttering through his stomach, the sweet taste of excitement coating his tongue with a strange nausea.

"We'll come here every day," he replies. A child whizzes past so quickly that they almost topple over, spinning right into the DJ's booth in slow motion. They both stifle their laughter as the grumpy DJ suddenly looks very flustered, the last song bleeding into the next. "We should probably help."

With surprising grace, since neither of them can travel in a straight line with skates on, they waddle over to the booth. Hyunjin brushes the child off, telling her to leave space travel to actual rockets, and sends her back to her mother. The DJ glares at them, but he can't refuse their help as Seungmin quickly helps set the sound board back to normal.

Then he gets an idea.

As Hyunjin waves goodbye to the little girl, he leans over to the DJ. "Hey, uh, it's my friend's birthday today-"

He doesn't need to say anything more. There's no way the DJ can refuse them when they helped. He sighs, "You want me to announce that to the whole rink?" He's got a funny sort of accent, that causes a lilt on his words, stretching out the vowels and rounding the consonants into funny shapes. It takes Seungmin a couple of seconds to work out what he's saying, but when he eventually does, he nods his head eagerly.

"What's his name then, kid?"

"Hyunjin," Seungmin says, and Hyunjin looks up at the mention of his name, clearly not having heard any of the rest of the conversation. Seungmin grins at the DJ, before dragging him away back their seats. The sparkly lighting of the rink isn't quite as dramatic here, the remaining stacks of chairs providing a shelter that hides them from everyone else. One side borders on the wall, the chairs opposite it blocking all view of the entrance.

The never-ending whirlpool of people, bodies pressed up against each other as they shriek in joy, can't reach them here. Safe, tucked away in the shadowy corner. The speaker above them pulses with the low bass of the song, the very floor beneath them vibrating with the energy of hundreds of people.

Seungmin grins, looking Hyunjin in the eyes just as the last few chords of the song play. Hyunjin opens his mouth about to ask a question, but Seungmin presses his finger to his lips, gesturing to the DJ. His voice is almost lost above the din of children screaming, but they're so close to the speaker that Hyunjin could never miss what was said.

"Wha-," he starts, and then "It's not even my birthday?"

Seungmin hits him playfully, trying not to blush when Hyunjin grabs his hand and squeezes it. "Does that matter anymore?"

It doesn't.

Nothing about who they were in Eden has to be true here, here where everything is free and exciting and  _new._ They can be whoever they want to be, do whatever they want to do, no more windows and walls to keep them trapped in a gilded cage. The world is warm, much like Seungmin's heart, and he knows why Hyunjin wasn't able to give this place up.

He understands why he'd never be able to resist the sweet taste of freedom again, the most beautiful addiction running through his veins. He'd follow Hyunjin anywhere.

Hyunjin's eyes sparkle. They hold every secret to the universe, every star encompassed in his face glittering with a happiness that takes Seungmin's breath away. They're stronger here, not cowering beneath anger and sharpened words. They can be happy here.

Hyunjin is happy here.

The lights around them swirl. A rainbow of colours, painting their skin with a deep burgundy and delicate peach. Shades that can't be replicated with such intensity ever again, as Hyunjin grips his hand and pulls him closer. They meet, in a pocket of space that leaves the taste of air conditioning at the back of their throats. An endless world outside.

He will never forget this moment.  
  
  


 

**EARTH**

 

The rollerskating rink is between Seungmin's house and Woojin's. It's partly the reason why they decided to meet there, instead of having to walk in a huge pointless circle to their individual houses. Jeongin lives slightly further away than Seungmin, so doesn't really care either way.

He'd dusted his roller skates off (when he'd eventually managed to find them) and skated down to Seungmin's house early in the morning. They'd travelled to the park and spent the whole day there, sheltering from the sun in one of the wooden play houses. After that, it was the simple job of getting to the rink.

Which doesn't take long, since the incentive of air-conditioning was pretty strong.

Jeongin can't help but gasp when they enter the cool building. He's sweat so much that all the suncream he'd plastered on earlier is practically all gone, so he reaches into Seungmin's backpack and takes out the bottle, knowing that if he doesn't do it now he'll forget later. The android doesn't need it himself, but he carries useful items like that around anyway, probably because he knows how forgetful Jeongin can be.

Woojin approaches them while he's covering himself with it. There are rings under his eyes that are almost dark enough to rival Chan's, but Jeongin doesn't think it's sensible to mention anything to do with the missing boy. Woojin's fragile. This is the first time he's been out with them since Chan disappeared, and Jeongin isn't about to ruin that. Instead, he pulls Seungmin over to some empty seats and sits down.

Seungmin pulls off his shoes and hands them to Woojin with a fake smile. His money is in his hand, ready for Woojin to ask him for it, and Jeongin can see that he's got the exact amount, coins and all. He tips the small pile of metal into the older boy's hand, and they watch him go to the reception desk.

The waiting room is just full enough that the noise of the kids and their parents around them is statring to give Jeongin a headache. When Seungmin makes some sort of strange beeping sound beside him, he simply winces and rubs his temples in an attempt to stop his head from hurting too much later. Surprisingly, it works, the pain beginning to ebb away. The black spots in his eyes disappear, and when he finally looks up Woojin's returned with the skates.

Jeongin glances at Woojin, who's struggling to put his last shoe on, and sighs. "We'll start skating without you. Catch up when you figure out how to tie your laces, old man." He takes Seungmin by the hand and pulls him down the endless maze of corridors, following the heavy bass of the songs playing until they reach a large par of double doors, covered in clip-art cartoons of roller-skates. Seungmin doesn't respond the whole time, so Jeongin simply rolls his eyes.

"Come on," he says, and drags Seungmin onto the rink, skating around him in an attempt to get the android to pay more attention. It doesn't work. He looks just as blank as before, staring at the ceiling like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. Which, if it is, means he hasn't had a very exciting life, since Jeongin's checked and it's definitely just a normal ceiling.

Woojin comes up from behind them, having finally gotten his skates on. "You okay?" he asks, and Jeongin almost asks him if that's the first non-Chan related thing he's said all week, before realising that's a bit insensitive and deciding to just keep his mouth shut.

They pass one of the huge speakers in the corner of the room, and Seungmin's head snaps round to stare at it.

"Do you not like the song?" He asks tentatively, watching as the awful nineties song finishes and another equally terrible one starts. Seungmin's eyes widen as the first few chords play out, his mouth moving. Whatever he says is lost in the din of screaming kids and the DJ yelling out about someone's birthday.

"No," he frowns, the expression contorting his face into something so unfamiliar it takes Jeongin a second to place. It seems so..  _unnatural,_ somehow, so different to his usual blank face and lifeless eyes. "I- I'm not sure."

His eye glows. Just slightly, at first, but sure enough it begins to light up his face, shining into every porcelain-smooth inch of his skin. It's a light pink, a delicate shade verging on rose , mixed in with something else he can't quite identify. Somehow, it seems wrong. For every thousands of times he's seen it happen before, this is the first time it's caught his attention like this.

Seungmin's running low on power.

The pulse in his eye is a warning sign, one they've ignored too many times before to ever forget what it means. His body is switching itself onto low-power mode, stopping all background functions, trying to conserve every last drop of energy until he can recharge.

It would explain his confusion. The lack of balance, the words that stumble out of his mouth and the twitching fingers are all signs that his body is beginning to save its energy.

Jeongin doesn't know how he hadn't noticed before.

"Seungmin," says Woojin, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the side of the rink and sitting him down with an urgency Jeongin's only seen a few times before. "You're shutting down."

Seungmin shakes his head, mouth opening and closing around his words. "No- n- no," he slurs, head beginning to slump, "I remember-"

One of his feet twitches when Woojin bends down, untying the roller-skates with shaking fingers. He leans down, trying to help but his motor-function is fading quickly and his hands are too clumsy to do anything more than get in the way. Woojin quickly bats them away, practically throwing the skates away in his rush, "Where's the nearest charging station?"

It's clearly aimed at Jeongin, since Seungmin is too out of it to reply, but Jeongin isn't listening. He's too caught up on Seungmin's words to pay attention. 'I remember-' he'd said, and it hadn't quite sat right, echoing through his mind like a record stuck on repeat.

How could he remember?

He's never heard Seungmin use that kind of phrasing before. He  _can't_ remember, he's an android for starters, and that means he doesn't  _have_ memories. Secondly, how can he remember something they've never been to?The rollerskating rink had only opened a few weeks ago, and Seungmin had been practically stuck to Jeongin's side the whole time. There was no way he could have been here before.

"What do you remember?" He asks, gripping Seungmin's shoulders and forcing the android to look him in the eyes. "What do you remember?"

Seungmin frowns again. "I- the-" he points to the ceiling with the coordination of a drunk person, throwing out his leg as he does so and causing Woojin to curse, "The music, I-"

_"_ Jeongin _,"_  Woojin says again, this time not taking no for an answer. He cuts off Seungmin so cleanly that even if the android had continued talking, there's no way any of them would have heard what he said. "Where's the nearest charging station?"

"Uh- Opposite the park? I think, wait, maybe the one by the supermarket is closer." He doesn't want to talk about charging stations, he wants to know what Seungmin was going to say. Can't Woojin see that this is important? He's never talked about anything like this, and maybe he never will again.

" _Jeongin_ ," Woojin repeats, somehow managing to put more warning into the name than before. He's not playing around, and Jeongin knows he should drop the subject before Woojin gets  _really_  mad.

"Opposite the park."

Woojin glares at him as he puts an arm around Seungmin, helping him to his feet. The android giggles slightly, going limp in his arms as his eye flashes even brighter. Jeongin gulps. He takes the withering look as a sign to  _be helpful, or else,_ so picks up both pairs of roller-skates. His own are still on his feet, allowing him to catch up with the others in no time. They weave around the other skaters, apologising when the occasional child can't quite slow down fast enough.

Seungmin's head lolls back onto Woojin's shoulder. There's no point asking him anything now, all of his remaining power is going into moving his feet, and even then Woojin is more dragging him than anything. Whatever chance Jeongin had at finding out what he's meant is long gone. "Can I help?" he asks tentatively, not having forgotten Woojin's glare.

"Sure," says Woojin as he struggles to open the heavy door. Jeongin darts in front of him to help, not actually doing much due to the wheels still on his shoes. "Why didn't you tell me he was running low earlier?"

"I-" says Jeongin, not having expected to be interrogated, "I- didn't realise."

Woojin looks pained. "Innie, there are  _thousands_  of signs, and you just didn't realise? He literally beeps  _every five minutes_ for the whole hour before he shuts down."

Okay, when it's put that way it sounds way worse than it actually is. It's not like he intentionally did nothing, it's just that he had other things on his mind. But he knows nothing he says now will make Woojin forgive him. He hangs slightly further behind them as he realises, letting them stay a few paces ahead of him as they travel through the maze of corridors. "I didn't- I just forget."

They end up at the main doors in what seems like no time at all. Jeongin can already feel the heat beginning to prickle at his skin as they get closer to the outside. He mourns the loss of air conditioning before he's even taken one step forwards.

"You can stay here," says Woojin.

In a similar way to how this whole day seems to be going, he was not expecting that. "What?"

Woojin looks pointedly at his feet. He's already walking away, pulling Seungmin along with him. "You've done enough," he says, and when Jeongin starts to protest he sighs. "You need to return our shoes."

"I want to help!" Jeongin exclaims. He takes another step, but the receptionist in the corner coughs before he can get too far. Woojin has a point, even if he doesn't admit it. He's got all three pairs of shoes on him right now, and there's no point delaying them any further.

"You've done enough." Woojin's tone says he's final and Jeongin knows not to push him. He simply watches as he half-carries half-drags Seungmin through the automatic doors and out of sight.

Gone.

He sighs. The roller-skates are beginning to hurt his fingers, since apparently whoever designed them did not think about having to hold multiple pairs at the same time. Trying to look like he's not sulking  _too_ much, he makes his way over the receptionist.

"You done with those?" She says, raising her eyebrows him and blowing her bubble-gum obnoxiously. One hand drums on the table in front of her, the other fiddling with the ancient computer system that looks like it hasn't been replaced since the nineties.

He glares back at her, putting them back on the table. She takes them without saying anything more, handing Woojin and Seungmin's shoes back to him. Even though he knows they're much lighter than the roller-skates, they weigh so much heavier on his mind.

Woojin was so worried that he was carrying Seungmin all the way to the park without socks.

Why hadn't he noticed earlier?

It didn't matter, not now anyway. There's no stopping the guilt building up in his chest, but he can at least stop overthinking the past. What's done is done, even if he wishes he could change things. He shoves one shoe inside the other for each pair as the receptionist watches on, trying to make them easier to carry, before rolling backwards. "They're mine," he says, seeing the receptionist glance at his own skates, and decides to leave before she can challenge him.

It's pretty obvious that they're his, since there's no way any self-respecting skate rink would hire out shoes in the same obnoxious colours as his. The main body is orange, with purple laces and highlights, making the end result look hideous but undeniably him.

The heat of the day hits him before he's even two seconds out of the rink, plastering to his hair and clinging to his clothes. His toes wriggle inside the skates, knowing they're going to boil as soon as he starts moving properly. There's a sheen of sweat building up on his face that he wipes off with his arm, wincing as it just causes the left-over sun cream on his skin to get into his eyes.

He needs to get to the park quickly, but there's no way he's even going to get that far in this condition. The weather is way too hot, and if he takes the quickest route along the roads, he's pretty sure he'd collapse within five minutes. Then the whole reason why he'd taken the road in the first place would be gone, and Woojin would be even more mad than before.

He picks up speed on his skates, and turns left as soon as he can. It takes him down a pretty well-hidden path beside the rink. The ground is uneven, so he can't go as fast as he'd like, but as soon as he pushes through the heavy layer of brambles and branches, the canopy of trees overhead makes up for it. The sheer density of the plants cause the whole path to be covered in shadows, providing a cool shade.

This is  _much_  more like it.

He takes off again after a short rest, letting his body temperature reach something more reasonable, and taking care to avoid any stray roots causing ridges in the dusty path. It covers his skates like a pale mist, coating the bottom of his trousers in a way that probably isn't machine washable.

The path is pretty quiet for the most of it, though. It's well-hidden enough that he wouldn't be surprised if he were the only one in the whole town to know of its existence. Seungmin knew as well, but that didn't count for much since he was an android, and therefore knew the whole town like the back of his hand.

Seungmin was the only reason he knew about it in the first place. They'd discovered it little over a few weeks ago, trying to escape Chan's wrath since neither of them had done their homework. The older boy had chased them all the way to the rink, and Jeongin had been so sure that they were done for, until Seungmin had pushed through the trees and dragged him into the hiding place. The beauty of the hidden path was so great that it had almost distracted him from the strange emotions Seungmin had displayed.

But that was beside the point. Yes, Seungmin had been acting more strange than ever lately, but most important part of that story was that Jeongin is pretty sure no one ever travelled down here. Which is why he's so surprised to see something rectangular, pink and glittery by the side of the path.

He frowns, before realising they all seem to be doing that a lot lately and he does  _not_ want to have wrinkles before he turns twenty, so settles for raising his eyebrows instead. It doesn't really have the same effect, because there's no one there to see it, so in the end he just gives up.

It's a cassette.

And one he recognises, but not from Seungmin. It's strange, because he had thought the android was the only one interested in cassette tapes in this tiny town, so at first he'd assumed it was one of his. Maybe it had fallen from his pocket as Woojin attempted to get him to the park. But he hadn't known Woojin knew about this path, and there's something else.

Even if he hadn't been with Seungmin for every single cassette he's bought, he'd know it wasn't the android's first choice anyway. It's coloured pale pink, with peach writing in a language he can't understand. It's much too garish and glittery for Seungmin, who's always been drawn to sleeker, more burgundy shades.

And he'd seen the boy who'd bought it.

Back when Chan had first gone missing, when him and Woojin had searched every shop as Seungmin and Minho waited outside. He'd caught is eye because of his handsome face, and the fact that Jeongin knew everyone in town. The boy was not from here. Jeongin hadn't been able to tear his eyes away, barely able to listen to Woojin's worried rambling.

He knew it was the boy who'd bought the cassette, because he remembered thinking it was strange. An unfamiliar face, showing up for the first time to buy something that he'd thought only Seungmin cared about. For that reason, his brain had taken in every single detail, including the sparkly pink cassette case he'd picked up just before they'd left.

But what was it doing here?

Jeongin bends down and picks it up, only to find that when he turns it over the back of the casing is almost completely melted. The sides of the tape are covered with soot that stains his fingers black when he brushes against them, and part of the backing crumbles to ash. If there was any decoration anywhere other than the front, it's completely gone now, replaced by melted plastic and streaks of charcoal.

But that's still not the strangest part. Even if the boy had somehow burnt the tape and dropped it as soon as he'd left the shop, there was no way it would be in this condition. The stains of mud mixed in with the soot are too old. He'd had to tug against the plants to retrieve it from the undergrowth, and in this suffocating heat there was no it would have been so firmly tangled within that time.

It didn't make sense, no matter how much he thought about it.

He looks round the trail, checking for anyone else, before lowering himself down onto the path. His hand is dusty from where he'd been supporting himself on the ground, and his roller-skates are covered with the same cloud. But somehow, apart from the mud, remains of plants and ash, the tape is completely clean.

He really shouldn't be doing this.

Woojin and Seungmin's shoes lie forgotten by his side. Really, he should just slip the cassette into his bag and continue to the park. That was the whole reason he'd taken this path, despite the distance. There was no reason for him to be prying open an ancient plastic case, not when he could be helping his friends.

But he can't let it go. He needs to know whether the tape inside is intact, overcome with the same insatiable curiosity that had possessed him earlier. With trembling fingers, he digs his fingernails into the crack in the plastic casing. Any normal way of opening it has been sealed together with the melted sides, so he has no choice but to rip apart the remains of the front, ignoring how his nails protest.

It takes a little while, but soon enough the casing snaps. The sound echoes through the empty woods, one piece flying over to land in Woojin's shoes. The shards of plastic are dangerous, and somewhere in his mind he knows he should pick them up before he accidentally put his hand on one.

But he can't draw his eyes away.

Nestled inside the case, more or less unharmed if slightly singed, is the cassette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your kind comments on the last chapter!! I love seeing what you think (seeing theories people have is AMAZING) so please leave another one if you liked it!
> 
> <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> felix decides he doesn't want to be nice anymore

  
  
  
**EDEN**

 

Felix has always been able to notice things. Insignificant habits, small phrases that people were likely to repeat, the way the furniture in a room was arranged. He noticed how people looked at each other when they thought no one else could see them, and maybe that was why everyone came to him to talk about their problems. Stuck in a silent house, the only voice of reason between two warring sides, it was his skill that kept him sane.

And yet, sometimes he wishes he didn't have it.

Would everything be the same then? If he'd kept his mouth shut like he'd once wanted to do, ignored the small signs until he stopped learning to recognise them. Would he still be the pillar of support, or would someone else be shoved into the role just as forcefully as he had been. Or would they simple have crumbled a long time ago, rotten from the inside out and destroying themselves without a second thought.

Maybe in a different world, he'd be someone else. Maybe he could have poured all his attention into something else, when he was happier, he could have smiled and laughed a bit more. At some point, maybe his feeling would have become genuine. He could laugh with no conscience, just as mindless and oblivious as the rest of them. Maybe they'd have to chase after him for once.

He could have been someone else. They all could have been, really, if only the circumstances were different.

But this is simply how it is.

And it's his skill of noticing things that alerts him to Seungmin and Hyunjin's intertwined hands as soon as they enter the room. They grip each other with a kind of intensity he's never seen before, a ferocity that sparks between them like electricity. Something's happened between them, something big, and by the way they're glancing at each other and then back to him, he's going to find out what it is soon.

"Felix," says Hyunjin, softer than his usual words. It fits his new image, Felix decides, his pink cheeks and honey hair having lost their ice-cold sheen. He doesn't seem as tightly wired, and maybe if Jisung was here he wouldn't even react to his insults.

Felix shuts his book. He briefly contemplates keeping his finger on the page so he can go back to reading as soon as they leave, but something about the way they're standing tells him that's not going to be anytime soon. He places it to his side instead, standing up to match their intensity. "Yes?"

Hyunjin looks pained. He glances from the book to the door, and his hand grips even tighter, so fiercely that his knuckles turn white and Seungmin winces. He starts to say something before cutting himself off, ending up in a stuttering mess of syllables. He's nervous. Really nervous, and that anxiety is shared by Seungmin. Together, they unite in caged whispers and silent looks, unspoken words passing between them.

He definitely won't be getting back to reading his book anytime soon.

"Felix, we-" Seungmin starts to say, before the words die on his tongue. It's unlike the bold nature of the boy, but maybe his edges have softened as well. Whatever happened between them is much more important than he'd first thought. Before, he can hardly imagine Seungmin holding back. But here he is, standing in front of him with his heart displayed for the world to see and struggling for words.

Felix sighs. He takes a step closer to them, staring pointedly at their joined hands so they know he's seen them. "Why don't you just show me?"

Hyunjin gasps audibly. "How did you know-" he starts, but Seungmin cuts him off with a smile. He's used to Felix's uncanny nature of knowing things, so accepts what was actually a guess without any questioning. They've spent too much time together for anything else. Felix can name every habit of Seungmin's off the top of his mind, list everything the younger boy likes about Hyunjin in his sleep. He knows him top to bottom and back to front. If someone asked, he could tell them everything about him.

He wonders if Seungmin would struggle if asked the same thing about him.

"Come on." His voice breaks Felix out of his thoughts, and before he knows it, he's trailing after them down the corridor. They pass through rooms he knows like the back of his hand, and ones he swears he's never seen before. He spots empty glasses piled up on tabletops that haven't been moved for months, books he'd thought he'd lost laying open, various types of bracelets hanging over every surface imaginable.

After walking for what seems like only a few seconds, they end up in part of the house he'd sworn he'd never step foot in.

"Why are we in Jisung's rooms?" He asks, voice low, just in case the boy in question is anywhere nearby. Judging by the way Seungmin and Hyunjin both seem a little on edge, checking every room for movement carefully before they enter the next, he can pretty accurately say that they don't want him to know they're there.

Seungmin pushes another door open and leads them into a corridor. "We're almost there," he says, ignoring Felix like he'd never even spoken. Maybe he should have left it at that, but Felix couldn't help but notice the way he stiffened, the way Hyunjin glanced at the floor guiltily as he'd spoken.

"Why are we hiding this from him?" he asks, this time his tone harder. Just to see how they react. And when the tension around them increases seven-fold, Hyunjin visibly wincing as he speaks, he can only assume there's more going on here than they're telling him.

"We're almost there," Seungmin repeats, matching Felix in tone. He pushes open a door to his right, checking to confirm that it's empty before darting inside. Hyunjin is quick to follow him.

But something stops Felix.

There's a bad feeling bubbling up in the pit of his gut, spreading through his body like poison. He shouldn't be doing this. It's not safe- and more importantly, it's not right. They shouldn't be here, there were rules and the rules were meant to be obeyed for a reason. Except, as Hyunjin grabs his sleeve to tug him inside, he supposes he doesn't have a choice.

Felix turns his head slightly, just before they drag him into the room and shut the door behind him. A movement catches his eye at the end of the corridor, and for a second he thinks he sees Jisung standing there.

His face is expressionless as always, impassive as ever and silently seething beneath the surface. One hand gripped around the door handle, white with fury as he meets Felix's eyes. Whatever remains of trust he had in the slightly younger boy evaporate in an instant. The air around him seems to glisten, waves of fury and betrayal rolling off him and hitting the back of Felix's throat with a metallic tang.

And then he's gone, Seungmin grabs his arm and pulls him inside, shutting the door behind him.

Felix stands incredibly still. Every muscle in his body is taunt, ready to jump at the slightest of sounds. Surely, if Jisung had seen them enter one of his rooms, there'd be little delay in him throwing the door open. Felix stands as still as he can, anticipating the loud noise. But nothing happens. Hyunjin and Seungmin look from him to the door, until eventually he straightens up and shakes his head. It was his imagination. It must have been.

Eventually, the paranoia wears off, and for the first time since he entered the room, he finally takes it in. It's beautiful. Bright colours plaster the walls, the light pouring in from the ajar window casting a golden glow over the careful paint-strokes. There's a strange serenity in the colours on the left side of the room, each one methodical and ordered, but to his right is what really takes his breath away.

Black. Black and red strokes criss-crossing over what he assumed had once mirrored the left side. They cover the bright colours with a wild ferocity, pain etched into every brash line. The paint bleeds onto the floor and the fabric hanging round it, a black stain slowly spreading.

Hyunjin puts a hand on his shoulder. "Don't look," he says, and his voice is soft. He turns his head towards Seungmin, who's currently grappling with a huge wardrobe in the corner of the room, and Felix does the same.

He understands. Hyunjin isn't being rude, there's no malice behind his words. The paintings aren't for them to see. They're Jisung in his truest form, his innermost thoughts presented on the walls in front of them. They're not meant for eyes other than his to see.

On the other side of the room, Seungmin finally manages to open the wardrobe. One of the heavy wooden doors stays jammed shut, but the other swings open, revealing a line of children's clothes swaying from clothes hangers. Felix doesn't recognise them, and one of his hands reaches out to stroke the soft fabric. They've been worn, several times at least, but there haven't been children in the house for as long as he can remember.

"Is this it?" Sure, it's interesting, definitely strange, but he'd thought they were going to show him something bigger. Going by how jumpy they were, he didn't think that taking him to see some kids' clothes was really worth angering Jisung.

Hyunjin smiles. "Follow after me," he says, before climbing into the wardrobe and pulling the handle of the door to seal himself inside. Seungmin makes sure the doors click shut behind him, before looking into Felix's eyes.

"Promise-" he says, trailing off. His eyes go to the wardrobe, and he bites his lip. Whatever is going on, Felix can't quite work out, but he knows it's huge. He hasn't seen Seungmin this visibly nervous for what feels like years, the anxiety radiation off the younger boy completely unlike him.

Felix doesn't let him finish his sentence. Before he can start talking again, he pulls open the wardrobe doors himself.

It's empty.

Hyunjin, who was  _definitely there before, Felix had seen him climb in,_ is gone. 

The wardrobe is empty. The clothes hanging from the rail are perfectly still, the dust that coats the bottom untouched, as if Hyunjin had never disturbed them in the first place. He can't quite make out what's behind the jammed door, but he's certain that it's exactly the same. There's no sign he'd been there at all.

"What-" he starts, but the words escape him. There's nothing he can think of to say that could possibly convey what he's thinking. His mind is a whirlwind of questions and thoughts, and he looks to Seungmin in one last desperate attempt to understand what is going on. The younger boy is completely unaffected. He's calm despite Felix's obvious panic, and somewhere along the line Felix realises this must have been what they wanted to show him. Not the clothes, it was never the clothes, but this disappearing act.

Seungmin puts one hand on his back. The warmth of his fingers seeps through Felix's shirt. It has a calming effect, until he realises that he's slowly been pushed in the direction of the wardrobe himself. "Hyunjin will explain everything."

"What do you mean?" Felix doesn't really want to climb into the wardrobe, but finds himself doing so anyway. The dust stains his trousers as he shuffles along the wooden surface. Behind him, Seungmin has one hand on the handle of the door, ready to shut him inside.

"Take a bite of the apple."

"Apple?" Felix can't see an apple- in fact, he can't see anything. Before he has a chance to look around, Seungmin closes the door, plunging him into darkness. There's a tiny slither of light through the gap between the joints of the wardrobe, but it's hardly enough to let him see anything. He rests his head back against the side of the wardrobe, knocking on the door with one hand and stretching his legs out as far as they can go in the cramped space. "Seungmin! What apple?"

Seungmin doesn't reply. Felix sits up straighter, squinting through the cracks to try and make out even the silhouette of the younger boy. He presses his eye practically all the way to the wood, but it's no use. There's nothing outside except light. He can't even see the paintings on Jisung's walls, even though he knows logically he should be able to. "Seungmin?"

Again, there's no reply. Felix knocks on the door again, louder this time. He fumbles with the handles on the inside of the door, but it's useless. They do nothing, too stiff to even turn downwards. He leans with his whole weight against the door, pounding on the thin wooden panels with both hands, but still nothing happens.

"Seungmin!" He tries again, but he's expecting the silence he gets in return this time. Seungmin- if he's even there- is ignoring him. Waiting for him to find 'the apple' and disappear like Hyunjin had. Maybe after a few hours he'll take pity on him and let him out, explaining what this was all about. But for now, there's nothing he can do except wait.

Until another idea strikes him. What if... what if the reason Seungmin had left was because he didn't want to be caught? If Jisung had entered the room, it would make sense why he hadn't been replying. And though Seungmin might not want to be found, Felix doesn't care. He just wants to get out of this stupid wooden box.

"Jisung!" Felix yells with a newfound energy, "Jisung! Let me out!" The sound of his fists against the door is beginning to give him a headache, but he doesn't stop Not even as his palms begin to turn red, skin sore and angry from the repeated abuse.

There's a sound from though the door. Just when Felix was about to stop again, he swears he hears a voice, someone talking quietly. "Hey! Jisung" He shouts, ignoring how his muscles protest. He sits up on his knees so he can put more energy into his movement. It makes the sound unbearably louder, and Felix knows that if Jisung is there, there's no way he can't be hearing this. "Jisung! I'm locked in the wardrobe! Please, Jisung, let me out!"

There's the sound again. It's muffled, like it's coming from the other end of a long tunnel, and even if it was a voice, there's no way Felix could make out what it's saying with the amount of noise he's creating. Slowly, he stops throwing his fists against the wardrobe doors. Instead, he strains his ears as much as he can, pressing the side of his head up against the cracks in the doors.

There's more silence. Was it his imagination? He's only been trapped for ten minutes, is that long enough for someone to lose their mind? He could have sworn he heard a voice, but the silence outside of the wardrobe doesn't lie. He sits back on his heels, disappointment creeping through his bones.

"Felix?"

There. Again, the voice calls out his name. It's from so far away, but he can make out the distinct pronunciation as Jisung's anywhere, and before he knows it he's up on his knees again, yelling with all his might.

"Jisung! Jisung, you have to help me! I'm trapped- in- in the wardrobe. Jisung-"

"Felix?"

"Jisung?" Felix presses his ear to the door again, hoping that Jisung will say something-  _anything._ His voice is too quiet, and maybe it's Felix's imagination but it sounds like he's getting further away. It's harder and harder to make out the words he's saying. He needs to be louder, needs to get Jisung's attention so he can let him out of here. "Jisung,  _please_ \- "

"I- Felix?"

That's when Felix realises. He can't hear him. He's not loud enough, Jisung is moving away, and when he tries to see through the gap in the wardrobe doors, he can't see anything apart from light. Jisung's not there, and neither is Seungmin. "Jisung! He slams his fists on the doors again, as hard as he can, screaming against the pain in one last desperate attempt to get someone to notice him.

Even if he already knows no one will.

Seungmin had left him to rot. Jisung had probably written off Felix's voice as his imagination, shrugging it off and continuing his day as if nothing had happened. All whilst Felix was trapped. Stuck inside a small wooden box with nothing but his failure.

If only he'd been louder. If only he'd tried to get Jisung's attention sooner. If only he hadn't followed Hyunjin and Seungmin so blindly. Maybe this would be a wakeup call of sorts. The universe telling him not to be such a pushover, to stand up for himself, and maybe that way someone would care about him the way he had to care about the others.

Why couldn't he be happy? Why did he have to be the serious one, stuck daydreaming about the person he could have been? Why couldn't he throw off his responsibilities like everyone else, why didn't he ever speak up for what he wanted, why was he stuck watching everyone else?

Why hadn't he taken control of his life sooner?

He knows there's no use thinking over what could have been. No, instead he was going to change himself, just like everyone else seemed to be doing. He's going to be happy this time, braver and oblivious to everyone else's worries for once. He's going to be selfish, and he's not even going to realise it.

But that all has to wait until he gets out of the wardrobe.

He rests his forehead against the doors, squeezing his eyes shut. After a few moments, he has to shift slightly, beginning to lose feeling in his toes. Pins and needles explode up his ankle when he does so, and he reaches down to massage the area. It's hard, the wardrobe is too small to fit him properly, and he ends up almost toppling over, slumping against the jammed door. 

That's when he feels it.

There's a round object in the very corner of the wardrobe, just far away enough that he hadn't been able to see it due to the poor light quality. But now his eyes have adjusted, he wonders how he could have missed it at all. This must have been what Seungmin was talking about. He reaches out, the dizzying scent of the fruit confirming what it is before he even has the chance to look properly. It makes his head spin, his thoughts emptying of all sense. The only thing that remains is Seungmin's message, his voice telling him to 'take a bit of the apple'.

He raises it to his lips, before pausing. Something just doesn't seem right. There's a lack of dust on the apple's shiny surface, and even if that could be explained by Hyunjin cleaning it off before he presumably bit into it himself, the apple is still whole. There are no other bite marks, no signs that Hyunjin had ever been in this same position. It doesn't make sense, much like everything else he seemed to be faced with lately.

But there's nothing he can do about it. No matter how wrong it seems, it's his only way of getting out of the wardrobe. He's beginning to get the feeling that the reason Seungmin's not outside at all isn't just because Jisung was there. He's beginning to get the feeling that he can scream and pound on the doors as much as he likes, but no one would come to save him.

Hyunjin and Seungmin had left him here on purpose. Jisung, he hadn't meant to leave, but he had anyway. It was a cruel twist of karma, Felix supposes, the universe getting him back for abandoning Jisung so readily before. He'd left him behind so many times, simply because he was scared of what Hyunjin and Seungmin might say if he left them. And as revenge, the universe had dangled a thin line of hope out just in front of Felix's fingertips, only to pull it away.

When he gets out, he decides, he won't care about having to stay neutral. He'll be a good friend, the friend that Jisung deserves, even if he knows the slightly older boy will never forgive him.

He bites into the apple with this thought in mind. The taste explodes in his mouth, every inch of his body with the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. It makes him gag, the flavour overpowering. There's a harsh side to it, something darker, and the taste is too sweet to ever truly be nice. He squeezes his eyes shut against it, screwing up his face in an attempt to get rid of the aftertaste.

When he opens them again, he's not in the wardrobe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for 2000 reads!!! i love you all <3 <3 please leave a comment if you liked it!!
> 
> there'll be a few more chapters of confusion, and then things should start to make sense ;)  
> i reckon i'm almost halfway through the plotline!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt say this before, but because its not a music video i thought i should probably explain where the whole bracelet inspiration came from: that one see saw cinema theory video

 

 

****THE IN-BETWEEN** **

 

There's grass beneath Felix's feet. The world, once it stops spinning, is slightly warmer than he'd expected, and he's never been more thankful for his great sense of balance than when he realises he isn't sat down anymore. His legs are shaky, but he catches himself before he can actually tip over. Seungmin, beside him, isn't as lucky. He seems to appear out of nowhere, despite the logical side of Felix's mind telling him that's impossible, and promptly falls face first onto the ground.

Felix almost goes to help him up.

Then, before he can actually extend his hand, everything comes flooding back. The wardrobe, the feeling of being trapped with the walls slowly pushing in on him. Seungmin and Hyunjin leaving him there, Jisung unable to help. He remembers the apple, and he remembers his promise to himself.

Felix, the mediator, is gone. In his place, born from the ashes of a boy who was too scared to stand up for himself, too passive to be truly happy, is someone stronger.

His hand goes back to his side, and he lets Seungmin get up off the floor by himself. It barely matters though, since Hyunjin is by his side in less than an instant, helping him to brush the dirt off his knees. They talk to each other in hushed voices, and if Felix hadn't seen Seungmin glance to him a few seconds ago, he wouldn't be surprised if they'd forgotten he was there with them.

Unlike before, Felix doesn't feel the need to stay and watch. It's what a good friend would do, but he's fed up of being the only good friend around here. No, he wants to explore, and so that's what he does. Without even so much as glancing behind him, he sets off across the huge field, heading towards a grassy slope. There are purple flowers dotted throughout the field, small enough that it's hard to tell that the petal are petals at all. They're squashed beneath his boots as he makes his way across the field, but there's no one here to tell him off for it.

They're not in Eden anymore.

As he walks, he thinks it over. If they aren't in Eden- where are they? Hyunjin and Seungmin obviously know, and they'd said they'd explain everything, but they're both too preoccupied with each other to pay any attention to him. There must be a way back, since the border of trees around the fields cut off the horizon and provide a barrier, but by the looks of things they've been here before. This is what they wanted to show him- not the clothes, or the wardrobe, or even the apple. They wanted to show him a way to leave Eden.

"It's the In-Between."

Felix jumps practically a metre into the air, spinning around with his heart beating embarrassingly quickly. Somehow, the empty field is not so empty anymore. There's a boy behind him, having crept up on him. His teeth are sharp, in a grin that should really be slightly creepy but isn't. He's short, but built well, and he stands with a casual confidence that rings several alarm bells in Felix's head. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

The boy smiles even wider. It makes his cheeks puff out slightly, which kind of ruins the whole fear-factor of the teeth and mind-reading. "I didn't," he says, "It was a guess. I've never seen you here before."

"That's because I've never been here before." Felix replies. Here. The In-Between. It still feels so surreal that he's not in Eden anymore, so impossible that this world has  _grass_ and  _flowers_  and  _people he's never met._ "My... friends brought me here."

"You hesitated."

He did. Somewhere inside him, he doesn't know whether this new version of Felix wants to be their friend. After the way they've treated him, he just wants some time to cool off. To think things over, let some of the anger and betrayal inside him die down. He looks over to where Hyunjin and Seungmin are standing, still too caught up in their own little world to realise he's left. There's another boy standing near them, with curly blond hair, just watching. There's no expression on his face, but a strange sadness surrounds him like an aura. He looks lonely. Felix wonders if that was what he looked like. "I did."

He doesn't know what he expected the boy to do, but nodding as if he understood was not one of them. "You're not Han Jisung then," he says, but his face tells Felix that he already knew the answer. Instead, it was a subtle way of trying to get Felix to reveal his name.

"I'm not." He pauses for a second, considering the fact that the boy was obviously trying to manipulate him into getting his name. And how did he know Jisung's name? Hyunjin and Seungmin must have told him, but why? He's so painfully aware of any ulterior motives that it takes him a moment to remember that's not who he is anymore. New-Felix wouldn't care. New-Felix  _doesn't_ care. He sticks his hand out. "I'm Lee Felix."

"Seo Changbin," replies the boy. He looks at the outstretched hand tentatively, before shaking it gently. His actions are a strange contrast to his physical appearance, so much quieter and younger than the tough exterior. Felix quite likes it.

"It's beautiful here," he says, after a beat of silence. He lets his hand drop to his side, and stares up at the blue sky above him. It really is. He's never seen clouds this colour before, and the light spilling down from the sun makes everything brighter. Eden seems so far away already, compared to the scenery that surrounds him.

Changbin blushes. "Thanks," he says, before seeing Felix's look of confusion and going even redder. "No! Uh- this is my reality. Well, mine and Chan's" he points to the blonde boy who's still standing motionless, "but I made it, so I guess you could say it's mine."

"You made this?" echoes Felix. His brain stutters on the concept of the boy in front of him being able to creating a whole new reality, but he pushes past it. The In-Between is beautiful in the same way Changbin seems to be. He doesn't doubt him for a second.

Changbin doesn't answer his question. Maybe he wanted to, but before he can open his mouth, Hyunjin, Seungmin and the other boy have approached them. Their arrival cuts their conversation off, and Felix can't work out why the thought makes him slightly annoyed.

"Hello," says the blonde boy- Chan. He waves at Felix, glancing between him and Changbin, before smiling. A bracelet on his wrist sparkles in the light as he moves. It's just hidden enough that even Felix almost missed it, slipping into his sleeve at the slightest movement, but something seems to draw him towards the metal band. He frowns, trying to work out what about the simple bracelet could be causing the hair at the back of his neck to stand up.

Felix smiles back. He seems nice. In fact, both of them seem nice. He can't quite work out why Hyunjin and Seungmin seem so on edge. They're standing close together, almost as if to protect each other, glaring at Changbin with identical mistrust. Hyunjin's hands are balled up into fists, whilst Seungmin shifts his weight from foot to foot restlessly.

"Jisung will follow." Hyunjin eventually says, his words short and clipped. Seungmin takes his hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles until he relaxes slightly. Changbin nods as a reply, and the whole group begins to make their way back to the border of trees without speaking again.

Felix can't help but feel like he missed something.  _Jisung will follow._ What did Jisung have to do with anything? Is that why Changbin had mentioned his name earlier? It didn't quite make sense, and Felix knew he was being left out of the information. Everyone else knew, everyone apart from him. His confusion makes him stick out like a sore thumb, annoyance at being looked over  _yet again_ bubbling up in his chest.

"Why do you keep mentioning Jisung?" He asks. New-Felix isn't scared to keep his mouth shut.

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchange looks. "We'll tell you later," offers Seungmin, "This isn't our actual destination."

Felix narrows his eyes at them, just so they know how little he trusts their word. "That's what you promised last time," he says, not keeping the spite out of his voice. They need to know that they hurt him, they need to change themselves just like he'd been forced to do.

"You shouldn't break promises so easily," Changbin comments. He's standing just behind Felix, but the younger boy hadn't realised just how close he was. His breath hits the back of Felix's neck, making him shiver. There's an underlying threat in his tone that doesn't go unnoticed, but he's too preoccupied to give it much thought. Changbin stood up for him. Changbin, who he's barely known for five minutes, stood up for him.

And he's the first person that Felix could remember doing so.

Seungmin winces. There's regret in his eyes that almost makes Felix want to apologise. But he doesn't. He stands his ground and looks him right in the eyes, unwavering and cold. He's not weak, he's stronger than ever before, and it's about time Seungmin realised that.

"I'm sorry," Seungmin says. His hands squeeze the cassette in his palm nervously, "It was the only way. You wouldn't have come if you knew." When had he had time to bring the cassette with him? It wasn't one Felix even recognised, a gaudy combination of light pink and peach. The design is so untypical of what Seungmin has usually found in Eden, that Felix wouldn't be surprised if it was from somewhere else entirely.

Then again, that was turning out to be the most plausible explanation. Maybe it had something to do with what they wanted to show him.

"Fine," he says. "You promised."

Hyunjin nods, as if he knew that's what Felix was going to say the whole time. He turns around and takes a step to the side, revealing a patch of glimmering air. It wavers the treeline behind it, light bouncing off the grass beneath. "Like this. We'll be there on the other side." He looks at Felix as he says the last part, a subtle apology. Then, without so much as taking a breath, he steps forwards and disappears.

"We'll be there," repeats Seungmin, before copying Hyunjin's actions. The shimmering-  _portal? -_ flashes around his body, and when the light fades away, Felix has been left alone with Chan and Changbin.

The world seems quieter. Less busy, more tranquil, and in a strange way Felix thinks he could stay here longer. He wants to get to know Changbin, wants to explore the strange feeling in his chest that leaves him lightheaded.

But he can't. He has to follow Hyunjin and Seungmin to who-knows-where. He has to know what'll happen to Jisung. New-Felix is the kind of person to do whatever he wants, but he's not quite New-Felix. He still cares too much. Stuck in the middle of two opposites, not quite sure who he really is anymore.

"Hey," Changbin puts his hand on Felix's shoulder, getting his attention before he can step through the portal himself. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," Felix replies. There's still too much awkwardness around them, as they stand both wondering what to do next. There's so much he wants to say, but just not enough time.

Eventually, Chan steps in. "Why don't you come and visit?" he suggests, and beside him Changbin nods his head to violently that Felix almost thinks it's going to fly off his shoulders.

"Okay." He doesn't need to say more. There's nothing he can add onto it to make it more sincere, not since Changbin already has an identical blush to his own dusting his cheeks. "I'll see you again."

He steps backwards, and the world melts around him.

****EARTH** **

There's a sickening lurch at the base of his stomach. The feeling this time is so different to before that it makes his head spin. His legs wilt beneath him as soon as he leaves the patch of shimmering air, and suddenly Hyunjin and Seungmin are by his side again. There's a wave of heat that follows, pressing tight against his skin and taking his breath away. His knees are unsteady beneath him, but Seungmin's already at his side ready to catch him, one arm coming out to act as a support pillar. "We've got you," he says, as Felix hangs onto his shirt with wide eyes.

Felix almost forgets his promises to himself. His fingers are so tightly wrapped into the fabric of Seungmin's shirt that he couldn't let go even if he wanted to. He can't stand up properly even if he wanted to, and Hyunjin quickly lifts up his other arm, letting him use his body as support until his legs decide to work again.

They weren't kidding.

There's no joke of any sort here, he's  _really in another reality_ , again. Even though he's just arrived, it's already so different to The In-Between. Maybe the shock from before was just delayed, or maybe the portal messed with his head. Either way, even though he was expecting this, doubt had lingered at the back of his mind, a small voice reminding him not to get his hopes up. After the wardobe incident, he didn't want to be so easy to fool again. He'd kept his guard up, and now it was falling to pieces around him.

This is not Eden, or The In-Between.

It's too warm. The heat is suffocating, and there are no grey clouds in the sky. The shimmering patch of air behind him has disappeared, but Hyunjin and Seungmin have been here before and managed to get back so there must be a way to return. They smile at him as he turns around slowly, taking in every aspect of this new world.

"Where am I?" He breathes, swallowing his pride from before. If he really wants to get answers, then he can't take any chances. Even if they promised, he's not going to trust them so easily again. Instead, he decides it's probably a good idea to get at on their good side, at least until they begin to tell him what's going on. He finally lets go of Seungmin, shrugging Hyunjin's arm off from around him.

Hyunjin grins at him. "Earth."

Earth.

It's beautiful. So different to Eden that he almost can't believe it's real at all. There's so much to see here, so much to do, and no walls in sight. He could go wherever he wants, whenever, and there's nothing stopping him. No rules, no stupid paper sheets dictating what he can and can't do, no Ji-

Jisung.

Jisung, left all alone in the house, burning up with fury because he's been left without a second thought. He can go anywhere now, search for someone to battle with as much as he likes, but wouldn't be able to find them because they were all so,  _so_ selfish.

Felix wants answers, and he wants them now, but his tounge doesn't seem to want to cooperate. "We-" He says, "Jisung, we-"

Seungmin shakes his head, "Don't worry." They're walking now, down the road that they'd appeared on and towards a few shops. They glow with a bright artificial light, even if it's still early in the day, casting long shadows on the pavement on front of them. It's bright, blindingly white, and yet Felix has still never seen anything more beautiful.

"It's a long story," says Hyunjin. There's a seat outside of one of the shops, a tiny minimart that screams 'cheap' at the top of its lungs, and he pulls Felix to sit beside him there. The bench creaks at their combined weight, but holds. He leans backwards, resting his head against the wall and smiling up at the sun.

Seungmin rummages through his pockets as Felix watches, eventually pulling out a small pile of shiny metal discs. He closes his fist around them, inspecting each one carefully. His mouth moves with each one he looks at, his eyes flashing with an expression Felix knows to be the one that shows he's counting something. The sunlight glints off the metal, and Felix finally recognises the  _coins_  as some sort of currency.

"You got enough?" Hyunjin asks, opening his eyes again.

"Just," replies Seungmin, slipping them back into his pocket. He looks at Felix, "I'm going to buy us some drinks," he explains, smiling when Felix nods that he understood, biting down his reply of  _remember your promise_. He disappears into the shop, the door closing with the ring of a bell behind him.

The store hums behind them. It throbs with an artificial energy of the kind he's never felt before. Everything is so packaged and unnatural here, from the stifling heat which traps him in his body to the neat rows of products lining the shelves through the window behind him. Even though there are none of the rough stone walls from Eden and the horizon in the distance seems to travel on for miles, he can't help but feel trapped.

"Jisung-" he starts again, this time determined to get an answer out of Hyunjin. He may already be a bad friend for leaving him behind, but he'll be damned if he doesn't interrogate Hyunjin for it first. Yes, he knows that the two have never gotten on, but surely this is bigger than their petty fights. He's not letting go of his promise for anything, and New-Felix is willing to hold it over his head for years to come if he breaks it again.

New-Felix might not even give Hyunjin a second chance.

Whatever he thought was going to happen, he isn't expecting Hyunjin to smile.

"Don't worry," he says, leaning his head against the wall again, "We've got a plan."  
  
  


****EARTH** **

 

Minho sticks his head out around every street corner before he walks down it. It makes him look incredibly stupid, something he is very aware of due to the surprisingly high amount of strange looks he's recevied, but it's the only way he can be sure that he's avoiding Woojin, Seungmin and Jeongin.

Woojin isn't so much of a problem- he's too busy searching for Chan and moping around his house to notice he hasn't seen Minho for days, but the younger two are a much bigger problem. Hell, they'd even turned up at his house a few days ago, and at the hottest time of the day nonetheless. They'd even almost spotted him at one point, through the flimsy curtains in his kitchen that he  _knew_  he should have replaced. He'd admire their determination if it weren't so annoying.

In fact, it's not like he wants to be out here in the first place. He'd stocked up on milk drinks for exactly this reason, and he'd be perfectly happy staying in his house for several years if it weren't for the fact that he'd run out of cat food. What he'd though to be three full bags had turned out to be three empty bags that he hadn't been bothered to throw away when he used them up.

So, really it was his own fault that he's outside in the middle of the day looking like he's an extra in a shitty spy movie.

But it doesn't matter in the end. He crosses the road, and just around the corner is the exact shop he's looking for. A cheap minimart, just the right type of anonymous and with a bad enough reputation that Jeongin and Seungmin wouldn't be seen dead near it. The cat food from the store isn't the greatest, but it's better than nothing, and Minho is willing to compromise at this point.

As long as he doesn't see anyone he knows, he's happy with anything.

The light spilling from the minimart is bright enough that it's visible from quite a few metres away, even against the harsh sunlight. There's no real reason for it to be that bright, Minho knows logically. Apart from giving him headaches whenever he gets too near, it doesn't have an actual purpose. It keeps the kids away, he knows that much, which is kind of stupid because that's a whole load of potential money down the drain. He's pretty sure he's the only person under the age of 50 who's stepped inside for at least a decade.

Which is why it takes him a few moments to register that there are two kids sitting outside.

His mind goes into overdrive. Could it be Seungmin and Jeongin? God, what's the chances of that- in fact, it would be just his luck. He immediately ducks behind a tree, practically running into a branch in his attempt to hide himself.

When his heart has gone back to a somewhat normal pace, he peers out from behind the trunk. The light of the shop makes it hard to distinguish any actual features, turning them into shadows more than anything. He squints slightly, ready to turn around and go home rather than risk being seen, but the sound of their conversation drifts over to where he's hiding.

"So you just offered him up? Like a piece of meat?" says one of the boys, and Minho immediately relaxes. His voice is way too deep to be either Seungmin or Jeongin, and by the tone he's using he's obviously annoyed. Minho doesn't know what they're talking about, but the deep-voice boy is definitely not taking any of the other boy's shit.

He leans against the tree in relief, the back of his head lying against the trunk and one hand resting over his heart. "It's not like that," says the other boy, though there's definitely a certain degree of guilt in his voice that tells Minho it might be like that, "He'll be happier there."

"Why can't he be happy now?"

Good question, thinks Minho, before realising that he's getting way too invested in this random conversation. He pushes himself away from the tree and starts to make his way over to the shop, closing his hand around the notes in his pocket.

"Felix, you know as well as I do that's never going to happen."

Felix rolls his eyes, Minho now close enough to make out the freckles on his cheeks. He goes to push the shop door open, but something tells him to pause. "Or maybe you just don't want to try," says Felix, "Maybe you just want to forget Han Jisung ever existed."

_Han Jisung._

That name, the same one from the note and the bracelet that’s currently wrapped around his wrist. An unknown voice warning him, telling him to stay away, and now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure he’s never seen either of the boys sitting outside the shop before.

Cat food forgotten; he turns away from the door until he’s facing Felix. “Did you say Han Jisung?” 

Both boys sit up straighter. Felix’s hands ball into fists, whilst the other boy just looks confused. “How do you know that name?”

Minho ignores them. He’s never been the most socially gifted person, and by their reactions they definitely know Han Jisung, and he’s not in the mood to talk to people who send anonymous death threats. “Did you send the note and the bracelet?” He sticks his arm out to show them, his sleeve slightly rolled down so there’s no mistaking the bright colours against his skin.

Felix stands up. His fighting spirit has disappeared, and in its place is the same confusion as the other boy. “I-” he starts, before shaking his head and trying again, “It’s one of mine, I think. No, definitely. But I don’t know anything about a note, and I’ve never even been here before.” He pauses, narrows his eyes and the same ferocity from before is back. “How did you get this in the first place?” 

“Why are you sending me death threats?” says Minho. He’s not going to back down, not to some freckled kid who apparently makes friendship bracelets in his spare time.

“What are you talking about?” The other boy finally stands up. He’s taller than Minho, and casts a shadow on him. For a second, it lets him see into the shop properly for the first time. Where, just by the door, with three drinks balanced precariously in his hands, is Seungmin.

Minho doesn’t stop to think about how Seungmin knows the very people sending him anonymous messages, or where Jeongin is. All rationality abandons him. He no longer cares about interrogating Felix.

As soon as he sees Seungmin’s face, he’s sprinting away. He doesn’t stop until he’s all the way home, hands on his knees, panting red faced into his palm. Through the panic, the beating of his heart that echoes all the way through his head, a single thought bubbles to the surface of his mind.

He doesn’t care what the note says, or what the boys may think.

Whoever Han Jisung is, Minho is going to do anything but stay away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment if you liked it!! again, i love seeing what you have to say!!  
> (or if you see a mistake, either is fine)
> 
> <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world had not been kind to Han Jisung.
> 
> IMPORTANT: see end notes for trigger warnings

 

 

**EARTH**   
  


 

The three bottles line up by the side of the bench, the only thing left in them the last remains of their drinks. Seungmin flips the cap from his, over and over in his fingers, playing with it worriedly. The hard ridges press into his fingers, leaving bumps on the soft skin, but his head is too filled with worry that he can't bring himself to care. His thoughts are so loud, too many questions that his brain can't simply focus on one, too many worries making his head spin past the point of rationality.

And even on top of that, there's the feeling that he's missing out on something. Hyunjin and Felix had explained the visit of the boy in as much detail as they could as soon as he'd stepped out of the store, but it still didn't make sense.

Who had that boy been? Apparently, he'd seemed so certain he knew Jisung. Or something about Jisung anyway, since he'd never been to Eden. Hyunjin had said the wardrobe and apple hadn't been touched before him, that he was the first one to pass through. The reaction of the two boys in The In-Between had proved that. And what reason did they have to lie, since they were dependant on them for Jisung. Either way, it didn't solve the mystery of how the boy knew him.

Why did he have one of their bracelets? Really, the fact one of Felix's bracelets was looped around one of his wrists should have been the strangest thing. Seungmin even recognised the beads, bright yellow and smoky grey shot through with black, but he'd last seen it on the floor in Eden, gathering dust along with the thousands of others they'd made. As Felix had described it, the patterns were identical, so there was no mistaking it as one of his. How had the boy gotten it?

Then, when they'd told Seungmin what he'd said, something in his words had confused him even more. Death threats? Felix was changing in front of their very eyes, becoming bolder and more direct, but even then, Seungmin couldn't imagine him sending death threats. It just didn't seem right.

And why had he run off at the first sight of Seungmin?

Though the door, for less than a second, they'd made eye contact. Something so brief and unimportant that it had genuinely scared him when the boy's eyes had changed. Through the dirty glass, Seungmin had seen his expression of pure terror, a panic in his eyes that made the hairs on his own skin stand on edge. He hadn't recognised him, but this boy had seen something in him that had terrified him past the point of reason. He'd sprinted off, abandoning his accusations and leaving a trail of questions behind him as he ran.

It doesn't make sense. None of it does, and Seungmin is starting to think he's made the wrong choice.

Beside him, Hyunjin stands up. He puts his arms out in front of him and stretches, his knuckles cracking as he flexes his fingers. He's worried, Seungmin can tell by the lines creasing his usually smooth forehead. He gnaws on his bottom lips nervously, his fingers now fluttering down by his side. "Are you sure there's-"

"- nothing we missed?" Felix finishes for him, standing up as well. He makes eye-contact with Hyunjin, and despite being quite a bit shorter, still manages to make him stand down. Seungmin isn't surprised. Hyunjin's never been emotionally strong. He feels to much, and Seungmin wouldn't be surprised if he's been holding back tears for the past half an hour. Felix knows this as well as he does, and is using it, albeit rather cruelly, to his advantage. "I'm sure. We've been over it at least ten times already."

Seungmin can't help but agree, even if he'd never say it out loud. Hyunjin seems fixated on the strange boy's words, repeating them over and over to himself as if they'd suddenly make sense. It's worrying, but Seungmin keeps his mouth shut. Hyunjin doesn't need to hear that right now. He wouldn't be able to deal with more criticism than he's already facing from himself.

"What about Jisung though?"

Felix's face drains of colour. "What do you mean-  _what about Jisung_?"

In a strange way, Seungmin knows what's about to go down before it actually happens. He, unlike Felix, knows what Hyunjin had meant. Jisung- they'd left him in Eden under the guise that he'd be fine alone for just a little longer. He was strong, stronger than they'd ever given him credit for, and he was tough. But the appearence of that boy had changed things. There was so much they didn't know, so much left unexplained, and everything they thought was right suddenly seemed like they'd never even scratched the surface.

If Jisung knew about the apple, even if he hadn't taken a bite out of it, that changed things. It meant he might not go to The In-Between, might not join the two boys there. It meant he might not find his chance to be happy.

"Nothing." Hyunjin says, trying to cover up what he knew would be a mistake the moment it left his lips. He glances at Seungmin in an attempt to ask him to keep his mouth shut. He knows Seungmin knows what he had meant, and he knows that Seungmin was never overly enthusiastic with this plan in the first place. "It was just a comment. It didn't mean anything."

But there's an icy edge to Felix's eyes that wasn't there before, the cold glare a chilling contrast to his warm skin and freckles. "What happened to not breaking any more promises, huh?"

Hyunjin gasps for words. He knows it's true, but he's torn between telling the truth and sticking with what he thinks will give the best outcome. It's ripping him into pieces, and for a second, Seungmin actually thinks he's going to stick to his word. But then his gaze goes to the floor, his nails leaving crescent marks on his palms as he lies through his teeth. "It didn't mean anything," he repeats, even though it's pointless.

"Jisung might not go to The In-Between."

Felix spins round, his exclamation of "What?" almost drowning out the betrayal that paints Hyunjin's features. Almost. Not quite. Seungmin sees him inhale sharply, sees the way his eyes are glassier than ever before.

But this is what Seungmin thinks is the right thing.

It feels strange. Before, he'd been willing to follow Hyunjin anywhere. Whatever he did, wherever he went, he'd still be perfect to Seungmin. There was a haze of adoration that followed him like a cloud, Seungmin trailing behind with him heart thumping and butterflies swirling in his chest. He'd been something more than human, an object of adoration that Seungmin had twisted his crush on into something more.

Now it was different. Seungmin knew Hyunjin was just as mortal as the rest of them, and once his childish ecstasy had worn off, he'd managed to fall even deeper in love with the person Hwang Hyunjin actually was. He didn't need to follow him like a lost puppy anymore, because now they walked side by side.

And that gave him strength.

Seungmin had changed, just like Felix had, but much more subtly. It gave him the confidence to disagree, to realise that he didn't need to agree with everything Hyunjin said. He could make his own decisions, and he knew Hyunjin would respect them. He could speak his thoughts, and not have to worry that Hyunjin would think less of him because of it. He understood that the world did not revolve around one person's opinion of him.

Hyunjin thought that leaving Jisung alone was the best thing to do.

And Seungmin knew that he was simply too scared to admit to himself that he might have to go back, because deep inside, Hyunjin is just as scared of Jisung as he's always been.

"If that boy knew about Jisung, what's to say Jisung doesn't know about him? We should go and explain everything to him. It's... It's the right thing to do."

Felix smiles. It's lopsided at first, and different to anything Seungmin's ever seen on him. He can't quite put his finger on it at first, until it morphs into something much bigger and brighter, and Seungmin realises he's never seen Felix smile properly before. "We can make things right," he says, "We'll go apologise to him, and we can- I can tell him I'm sorry."

He doesn't wait for anything else to happen. Instead, he starts walking back to the street corner where they'd arrived, not looking back once. Seungmin jogs to catch up with him, not wanting to be left behind. This is his decision as much as it is Felix's.

"Wait!" Hyunjin calls from behind, and something in his voice sounds so broken that Seungmin almost stumbles. He can't stop, not now. Not even for Hyunjin. The older boy realises they're not going to wait for him, and the half-sob he makes as he reaches them makes Seungmin sick to his stomach with guilt.

"Wait," Hyunjin says again, "Minnie, please. Just... Just listen to me. Please?"

Seungmin shakes his head. "This is my decision to make, not yours."

"No, you're not listening," Hyunjin tries. He reaches out to take Seungmin's hand, and Seungmin lets him. He doesn't try and stop him, like he might have expected, but instead runs his fingers over his knuckles in a soothing motion. "It's not my place to try and force you to do anything. I know that. But I have a bad feeling about this. Please, Minnie, stay."

Seungmin tugs himself away from Hyunjin's grip, spinning round to face him. Their eyes match with unshed tears, and Seungmin takes a little comfort in the knowledge that it's just as painful for Hyunjin as it is for him. "I can't," he says, but his heart's not in the words. He looks between Felix and Hyunjin, and makes a decision.

He wants to apologise. He wants to go with Felix and apologise to Jisung, explain everything in detail and let him know that he never has to be alone again. Tell him that he'll be happy. But if he goes, it'll destroy Hyunjin. Eat him from the inside out, because there's a deep-set fear of Jisung inside his very soul, an ever-lasting scar from all the harsh words that have been thrown at him.

He presses the cassette into Hyunjin's palm. "I'll give him this, and then I'll leave. As soon as he has the cassette, I'll leave. I promise."

On the cassette, is a buzzing noise. It hadn't been there originally, when Hyunjin had first given it to him it had played a song just like the rest in his collection. But he'd put it in his bag when they'd travelled from Eden to Earth, and the trip had changed it in some way. It was much harder going back than it was arriving, the force of the journey stealing his breath every time. It had replaced the song on the tape with a low buzz, with no lyrics or melody, but a message stronger than could ever be put into words.

Seungmin had listened to it, and it was like the whole explanation the two boys from The In-Between gave them suddenly made sense. Contained inside the buzzing noise was an understanding of the three realities.

If he could just give it to Jisung, then everything would be okay.

"You shouldn't break promises so easily," whispers Hyunjin. He presses his lips to Seungmin's forehead. There's no point saying any more, when a simple action tells him the same thing in a much more meaningful way.

Seungmin smiles. "I won't break it." A pause, "I promise."

Felix coughs suddenly, startling the couple out of their moment. "We're here," he says, gesturing to the patch of shimmering air when they both look at him with big eyes. He doesn't speak again, instead stepping inside without any hesitation. The world closes around him.

"I'm going to come to The In-Between with you," says Hyunjin. His lips are redder than ever. Seungmin hadn't even noticed he was back to biting them. "I want to stand right outside."

Seungmin nods. It's understandable, the desire to hold each other as tight as possible and never let go. He takes Hyunjin's hand, tugging him towards the portal. They step inside without any hesitation, all thinking and worrying left behind on Earth. Hyunjin knows he can't change Seungmin's mind, and so they've made a compromise.

There's a short burning sensation, more uncomfortable than it is painful, and it's over practically as soon as it begins. A short stabbing pain just under his ribs, his skin prickling with spikes of heat, and then there's nothing. The cooler air of The In-Between is a welcome relief to the suffocation humidity of Earth. Goosebumps bloom on his arms in response to the slight breeze, but it wipes the sweat from his fringe off in a was that so relaxing he can't complain about anything else.

Felix is watching them as they step out, not quite knowing where the portal back to Eden actually is. "This way," Hyunjin says when he sees the freckled boy standing awkwardly, ignoring the tension between them and leading him across the field. The doorway appears as they make their way through the grass, almost identical to the one that had just taken them here from Earth.

The breeze blows again, slightly stronger this time, but Seungmin has adjusted to the temperature by now. "Let's not waste anymore time," he decides, and Felix stands next to the portal without delay.

"Let's not," he agrees, and turns around so his back is to the shimmering air. Seungmin joins him. From here, he can see the whole of The In-Between. Every rolling hill in the background, each patch of purple flowers. The circular mirrors in the distance, glinting dangerously. But he only looks at Hyunjin.

He smiles at him, reassuring him that he'll be right back. The older boy's bottom lip is even redder than before, his teeth poking out from between them to nibble at it nervously. He's worried, but he'll be okay.

The portal behind them glows slightly brighter. Though the journey is especially hard this way, it's strong enough to take two people at the same time. In fact, it's easier, the force of the trip taking the same amount of energy from the passengers, whether it be one or two or three. His shoulder knocks against Felix's, the place where their skin presses together warm even through their t-shirts. Felix takes his hand, the one without the cassette, and squeezes it.

Just a step backwards. The portal should take both of them, and they'll find themselves in the basement of the house in Eden. Covered in dust, so much so that their lungs ache and contract. Every time, no matter how much they clean the room, there seems to be a fresh layer of grime covering every single surface.

Seungmin smiles at Felix, and moves.

Felix doesn't.

It almost happens out of nowhere, the two boys from The In-Between appear from the tree-line. Their clothes are torn, slightly stained at the edges from the muddy ground, and there are leaves in their hair. At first, the shorter one with dark hair smiles at them, at Felix more specifically.

"Changbin?" Felix says,  _that must be the name of the boy,_ and his other hand goes up to wave. He hesitates for a second, the time-frame between his entrance and Seungmin's so minuscule that it never should have mattered. They're standing at the edge of the doorway to Eden, the portal beginning to pull them backwards any way. What difference should it make?

Then, just as quickly as he had appeared, Changbin's eyes widen. His mouth falls open, a strange horror painting his face. There's a haunting panic there that sets Seungmin's heart racing. He's scared, so scared, and almost an identical mirror of the boy through the door.

Except this time, he isn't looking at Seungmin.

He blinks, and suddenly Changbin's moved faster than ever should be possible. The blonde boy isn't far behind him, but he's reached the portal now, running with all his might in a desperate attempt to reach them before- before what? His outstretched hands are only a few centimetres away from Seungmin, so close the breeze from his movement presses kisses to his arms.

They don't go for him, though. He tackles Felix out of the portal, his inhuman speed reducing them into little more than a blur. The force rips him away from Seungmin, and their bodies hit the ground with a thump, heavy and painful.

And then there's a light, the world ripping itself to pieces around him, and dust fills his lungs. He opens his eyes, only to find it's dark. The grass under his feet is gone, replaced by hard concrete and a ringing in his ears.

And he's alone.

There's no one by his side, the space where Felix had been- where Felix  _should have been-_ still tender and raw. The last remaining warmth from his hand fades from Seungmin's fingers. It's cold here. Too cold, and his mind only plays snipped repeats of the last few seconds as the chill sets into his bones.

He's alone in Eden. Felix isn't here beside him, and he has no idea why Changbin had been so scared to let him enter. He rubs his arms in attempt to warm himself up, swapping his weight from foot to foot. It provides a little distraction before his headache has ceased enough that he can finally think clearly.

And see clearly.

He's not in the basement. In fact, he's beginning to think he must have imagined the dust, because the room is immaculately clean. It is still dark though, and it takes a few more seconds before his eyes begin to adjust. Finally, even if it's hard to make out the colours, he works out by the huge rectangular shadow in the corner of the room that it's Jisung's painting room. The room with the apple and the wardrobe, and he's so caught up in his relief that he almost doesn't stop to think why he's here.

He almost doesn't realise that he's not quite as alone as he'd first thought.  
  
  


 

**EARTH**

 

The house is empty when Jeongin gets home. It's what he was expecting, but it doesn't make it any less pleasant when he walks in and finds that it's at least five degrees hotter inside than out. He spends the next ten minutes making his way through the rooms, opening windows and turning on fans. He even half-considers sticking his head in the freezer whilst he does so. There's no one home to yell at him either way.

He doesn't, in the end.

Not because he's scared that he'll fall in and they won't find his frozen body for days  _(because that would be stupid and what's the point of being scared about something stupid),_  but because he still has hope that Seungmin will miraculously un-cancel, and he doesn't want the older boy to think he's an idiot for cramming his body into an electrical appliance. Instead, he grabs an ancient-looking ice-lolly from the bottom drawer, biting the flavoured ice absent-mindedly as he makes his way upstairs.

It sends spiking pain through his teeth and he shudders for a good few seconds. Maybe it's lucky no one is home. He doesn't think he'd be able to live down that very good impression of an insane caterpillar.

Eventually, he reaches the first floor. If it was warm downstairs, it's insufferable here. And it can only get worse. Not for the first time, he decides he really hates himself for taking the attic room. What had originally seemed like a blessing (biggest room in the house, no annoying siblings or cousins breaking his stuff, some peace and quiet for once) turned into quite the opposite in this weather.

The heat only gets worse as he winces his way up the metal ladder (metal! who on earth thought that was a good idea!), and he's pretty sure he leaves at least half the skin on his palm attached to it. His other hand is having the opposite problem. The ice-lolly is way too cold and he's starting to lose feeling in his fingers. The only part of the lolly that isn't currently rivalling the temperature of the arctic is the top, which is melting  _very_  quickly and sending neon orange droplets down his wrist.

He reaches his room a sweaty, sticky mess with a total of zero (0) functioning hands.

That doesn't stop him from immediately flopping down onto his bed, ignoring the orange stains from the lolly on the sheet, and sticks the rest of the popsicle into his mouth. His teeth protest, but he pushes past the pain, crunching it until his whole mouth has cooled down. His head twinges slightly, the very beginning of brain-freeze, but he ignores it in favour of throwing the empty wrapper and stick into the pile of rubbish in the corner of his room.

God, he wishes Seungmin were here.

It's too quiet. Even with every single window open, the weak breeze making his curtains flutter up, it's no loud enough. He's grown up with people yelling at all hours of the day, not a single moment of silence. There was always someone singing in the background, or a tv on, or  _something._ The fact that the house is empty just seems... wrong.

His bed creaks when he suddenly sits up dead straight. He grabs his phone from beside him and keys in Seungmin's number. Maybe it was a bit rude, since he's already called and Seungmin had said he was busy, but if Jeongin wasn't incredibly annoying, what kind of friend would he be?

It's too quiet without anyone else here. He doesn't like it. The shadows in the corners of his room seem darker than before, and the knowledge that no one would know if anything happened to him makes him feel slightly ill. Having Seungmin round would make him feel better. Even if the android barely ever spoke, just having someone else in the house would relax him.

Besides, he thinks, as he eyes the cassette still lying on his desk, Seungmin would probably want to see this.

He picks at the peeling skin on his palm as the phone rings. It only gets to buzz a few times before Seungmin picks up, voice uncharacteristically tired. It's so different to his normal flat tone that Jeongin almost thinks he dialled the wrong number. "Seungmin! Wanna come 'round mine?"

The other side of the line crackles.  _"I-"_ There's a pause, something that makes Jeongin's heart drop. Seungmin never pauses. He didn't think he had the capability to, it's something so inherently human and Seungmin is so... not.  _"Something's going to happen."_

If there were alarm bells ringing before, Jeongin's now on full alert. He sits up straighter, the skin on his hands now forgotten. "What do you mean? Like what?"

Seungmin pauses again. " _I don't feel well."_

"You don't feel well? But- That's impossible." An android getting ill. It's unheard of, and even if he did ask, Jeongin knows what the answer is. Should be. Seungmin's programming doesn't have an ill section- he's  _made of metal_ _,_ how is it possible that he could be ill? It's impossible. It has to be impossible. "Isn't it?"

_"I'll see you tomorrow, Jeongin,"_ says Seungmin. He sounds tired, weak even, and Jeongin isn't surprised when he hangs up. It doesn't lessen the confusion though. He sits on his bed for a good few minutes, staring at the now-blank screen of his phone. What was that all about? It wasn't like Seungmin to hang up, wasn't like him to feel ill or to cancel plans.

Seungmin was the only one who was still acting normally. Now that Chan's missing, Woojin's too distracted to do anything but worry and yell at him, and Minho hasn't been seen for days. It's like his life has been running in slow-motion up until now, the calm before the storm. Everyone's so caught up with their own problems, and Jeongin feels like he's the only one that hasn't changed.

Everything is different, and he's the only one that hasn't caught up.

He misses Chan. He misses their talks at lunchtime, the older ruffling his hair. He misses complaining about it, saying that he wasn't a child and that he didn't need to be babied. Chan had always read him so easily, known when he got too worried about Seungmin and he'd say exactly the right thing to calm him down. Jeongin doesn't know where he is now. He doesn't know why he's disappeared, but he knows it wasn't Chan's choice. He would have never left them.  _Never._

He misses Woojin. He misses when he'd sneak fried chicken into school so Jeongin didn't have to eat the disgusting school lunches. He misses coming downstairs and seeing Woojin waiting for him, giving sweets to all his little siblings and cousins because they loved him almost as much as Jeongin did. He knows Woojin is struggling, and he knows that he hasn't been there for him, but he's turned into a black hole since Chan's disappearance. He'd yelled at Jeongin at the roller-skating rink, and even if he was just taking his pent-up frustration out on him, it didn't stop the words hurting any less.

He misses Minho. He misses sitting outside shops with him, legs stretched out on the burning pavement. He'd buy them matching juice-boxes because Jeongin never had enough money for himself. Minho liked him because he wasn't afraid to address what needed to be said, and Jeongin liked him because the older was just as harsh with his opinion as he was. It hurts that he's avoiding him, almost like they were never friends in the first place. It hurts that Woojin doesn't seem to care or notice Minho's problems, which means it's all on Jeongin to fix.

He doesn't miss Seungmin. The android has never left his side until now, the only pillar of stability in this messed-up world. His changes in behaviour were much more subtle, it meant he was acting happier, more  _alive_. Jeongin doesn't miss the nights he'd spent awake worrying about him, the noise from the rooms downstairs being the only thing stopping him from being left alone with his thoughts. Even if fact that Seungmin feels ill can't be good, Jeongin doesn't think he's ready to go back to worrying about him. Not just yet.

It's too quiet in this empty house.

His eyes got to the cassette tape again. It's still on his desk, lying with his roller-skates. He'd thrown them there as soon as he'd gotten home after meeting Woojin and Seungmin at the park. It had been a few days until he remembered them again, and he'd immediately asked Seungmin if he wanted to listen to it with him.

Surely it wouldn't matter if he listened to it first.

It would stop the house from seeming so quiet. A bit of music could make it seem like he wasn't so long, besides, the tape might not even work. He picks it up, inspecting the mostly-melted case again. The fire damage is pretty bad in some parts. Maybe it's better this way. If he listens to it now and it doesn't work, then he doesn't have to get Seungmin's hopes up for nothing.

He presses it into the cassette player.

There are a few seconds of silence as the machine whirs, working around the unfamiliar tape. There are even a few worrying clicks, but nothing bad seems to happen. Then, almost as if he'd jinxed himself, there's a low beep and the machine stops completely. The whirring, the clicks, everything. It's broken.

Really, what had expected. For a random cassette he'd found in a dirty path, he'd certainly had high hopes. He shouldn't have ever thought it was going to work in the first place, and now it was just another disappointment in line that was slowly getting longer. He puts it back down on the desk and crashes onto his bed.

Maybe it's a metaphor.

A broken cassette could quite easily be a sign from a pissed-off universe, telling him to get his shit together.

If he wanted to listen to music, he could go downstairs and turn on the tv. Instead of sitting around and waiting for things to fix themselves, he should go get up and do something himself. Apologise to Woojin, make sure Minho couldn't run away this time. Find out why Seungmin's been acting so strangely.

But before he can even disentangle himself from his duvet, the cassette player begins to whir again. Faster this time, and louder, until there's a resounding click and the song begins to play.

Except it's not a song. The cassette, burnt and melted, doesn't contain any type of music. It doesn't even contain anyone speaking. There's no melody or tune, and yet Jeongin suddenly understands more than he ever has before. His arm, still trapped in his sheets, lies forgotten. All his problems are suddenly a world away.

A low buzzing fills the room as the cassette begins to play.  
  


 

**EDEN**

 

The world is red.

Even though the walls are painted with every colour imaginable. They're still bright, even if most of them are covered with layers and layers of black paint. Nothing in the room escaped his destruction, even the wardrobe in the corner of the room torn into pieces. His paint pots lie open on the floor, leaking into the carpet. This room was once filled with scenes that came straight out of fairy-tales, but all Jisung can see is red.

Red, every tin of paint. His skin caught on the lid in his desperation to open them, dark blood dripping into the mess. Red like his palms, like the bright fury staining his clothes. The painting on the walls are all red and grey, bleeding through the cloth and blocking all the light that ever came through the window. The sun still shines, but it's harsh and the light is red.

Red, like the apple in the middle of the floor.

It's so bright against the dark stains on the carpet, and so sweet that he can't get to close without gagging. The scent fills the room like perfume, choking the back of his throat and hanging in the air like a thick cloud. The smell makes his eyes water, burning the tear tracks down his cheeks in a sick imitation of the pain in his heart. It hurts to breathe, and the cuts on hands sting, but he ignores it.

After all, the red of the apple is drowned out by the red that courses through his veins.

They'd left him.

He'd seen Felix in that corridor. Jisung hadn't even meant to be there in the first place, he'd been down by the third bathroom, folding page after page of ancient books into paper animals. There was an origami book he'd found a few months ago, twelve designs for twelve different animals. But he hadn't been able to concentrate on the last. It was as if the universe was telling him he should be somewhere else. He'd wandered through corridor after corridor, through room after room, until he'd ended up right where he'd started.

Felix had seen him. Hyunjin and Seungmin pulled him into the room, and he wasn't surprised that they hadn't looked back. They'd laughed at his paintings, the inner workings of his soul displayed on the walls for  _only him to see._ He'd  _trusted_ that no one would enter his room, but maybe it was just another rule they'd broken without telling him.

They could sit and laugh at him together, while he wandered the halls alone. Day after day, until the loneliness began to give way to something much darker. The only one to ever listen to what he'd _thought_  they'd all agreed to.

Let them laugh, he'd thought. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been that happy, couldn't remember the last time someone spoke to him outside of an insult. It had been so long ago that the memories weren't even there anymore, just a vague recollection of what he could have had.

No. What he should have had.

He should have been happy. He should have been sitting with the rest of them and laughing alone, but as soon as he walked inside everything would stop. He'd be met with the same cold silence, hatred so strong it was barely suppressed in the glares they sent him.

Jisung, lonely and tired. Jisung the painter. Jisung, the one who had once laughed the most.

Hyunjin laughed, the one who pulled away first and laced his words with venom that stung Jisung's skin until the burns on his chest reached through into his heart. Seungmin laughed, the love-sick fool who couldn't see his 'crush' was a sick obsession and who lied without a second thought. Felix laughed, the traitor who kept up a facade of innocence, Jisung's trust crumbling down as he watched. 

Felix had looked back. They'd made eye contact in that corridor, and for a second Jisung thought he might actually apologise. For one stupid second, he'd been foolish enough to believe that someone actually cared about him. That maybe Felix still cared, that his one friend might still approach him with outstretched hands. 

And he'd been so,  _so_ wrong. Felix turned his back on him, just like the rest of them. He'd only looked back to smile as Jisung watched them defile the one place he'd held close to his heart.

He'd stayed pressed up against the wall by his room- his  _own room_ \- waited. He didn't know what for, but the pain in his chest turned his legs to stone. He didn't want to look inside, couldn't face watching as he realised his safe haven had never been safe. Instead, he stayed there frozen. Waiting, but they never left. Instead, just as he finally got the courage to  _look inside somewhere that should have been his anyway,_ the wardrobe door shut.

All his paintings, the last of what he remembered to be happy, tainted. By eyes that weren't his own, something so private now turned into knives that cut into his skin. They laughed as they dug into him, smearing his blood onto the walls, the inside of his body joining the inside of his mind.

The room was empty.

Almost as if it were his imagination. He couldn't even trust himself anymore, the loneliness had finally caught up with him, so many years of barely saying anything morphing his tongue to acrid jealousy and hateful words. And then he'd heard Seungmin's laugh, mocking him from the wooden box. He was taunting him, letting him know they weren't there, and that he'd never find out why.

Rubbing his face in their delight, mocking his pain as he screamed at the world. His one refuge, reduced to nothing more than garish colours on thin walls. Who was he kidding? It had never been safe, just one more cruel trick by fate. They'd waited for him to truly believe things couldn't get any worse, and then they'd displayed his deepest feelings to anyone who wanted to see. 

He'd thrown open the wardrobe doors, and torn the closet to pieces.

He thought he'd heard Felix's voice when he dropped the last piece. The splinters in his hands screamed, the chunks of wood wedged in the soft flesh of his palms colouring the floor with something other than paint. He thought he'd heard him call out, but there was no one there. A last betrayal from the traitor himself. 

Really, what should he have expected.

It was another cruel joke.  _Poor Jisung_ , they'd said as they watched him cry himself to sleep at night _, poor, stupid Jisung. Too dumb to realise no one wanted him there until we had to show him. Can you believe he actually thought he'd be happy?_

_Look at him now. Poor little Jisung, all alone. Wondering why he didn't realise everyone hated him sooner. What a fucking bitch. No wonder no one ever cared about him. No wonder we never did._

On the walls, in so many different colours, he has friends. It's so easy to tell who they are, tall, a mole on his cheek, freckles. They hold Jisung's hands and laugh  _with_  him, whilst his parents watch from the fairy-tale castle they all live in together. There are no walls, and their skin is stained gold from the sunlight. The grass beneath their feet is green, the sparkling lakes blue, the flowers purple. 

Hyunjin stands by him, there. Deep burgundy, passion overflowing into the world around him as he teaches Jisung how to dance, the festivals of light painting them in coloured dust. Seungmin passes him bracelets, spilling with peach into the walls behind him. The pavement is warm beneath their skin, the music louder than their happy whispers. 

Felix holds him tight, and here, he never lets him go. Eden green, melting into the plants around him. Thousands of tiny butterflies, painted with every colour of the rainbow, surround them, the sun hitting their wings to they almost appear to glow. Felix pulls him tighter, pressing him so close that he can feel his heartbeat through his thin t-shirt, and tells him that it's okay now.

Jisung knows where they've gone.

The apple, the wardrobe, the disappearances. It adds up, just like something out of the fairy tales he adores. There was another world hidden right in front of him the whole time. amongst the clothes and behind the stacks of empty paint pots. One where maybe the grass was green, the water was blue and the flowers were purple. One where the colours weren’t confined to paint, and there were no walls in sight.

One that he wasn't invited to.

There’s no point denying it anymore. The cruel laughs are gone, somewhere he could never reach, and so are their taunting eyes. They’re gone, they’re not coming back, and maybe there’s one bit of solace in between the hurt. He doesn’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Because it hurts. It’s warmth from his head to his toes, tinted light in his vision. Black walls and red paint, shards of wood collecting on a thick woollen carpet stained with his blood. It’s a fire through his veins, his body ready to burst into flames at any second. He burns brighter than the lighter in his pocket, so ready to set this place alight. The cloth paintings are useless now, nothing more than the fantasy he was to blind to see that they were all along. The sweet scent of the apple mixes with gasoline, and it’s red.

It’s red, and his head spins, and his body burns, and he’s so ready to drop the match, but he sees-

Seungmin.

“Jisung?” Seungmin’s voice is quiet, softer than he’s ever heard before, and if Jisung were from only a few hours ago he might have believed the tenderness to his voice. He might have still dreamt of the paintings on the walls, safe under the illusion that they were still his. But not now. His body screams, his head throbs, but he’s not as gullible as he was before.

“What are you doing here?”

Seungmin shakes. He genuinely shakes, his eyes go to the carpet which is  _red and black and grey and it hurts,_ but he looks back up. Steel in his glare, the barest hint of a smile hiding behind those lips. “I have- I came to give you this.”

He holds out a cassette. It’s a tape Jisung’s never seen, peach and pink and covered with so many bright colours it almost could be something from his walls.

A sick imitation. Seungmin knows, Seungmin saw, and Jisung’s body screams at him. He won’t fall for this again, the red is too strong this time, and he’s not as foolish as he was before. The light falls on the tape, revealing what it really is. They want to take his trust and break him again, cellotape his pieces back together with lies so they can smash him against the wall. Bright red china shards that fly across the room, the same colour as the blood that drips from his palms into the carpet.

Can’t they see that he’s already broken enough?

“I want to apologise,” says Seungmin, but he doesn’t mean it. The room is too warm, the fire already licking the edge of Jisung’s fingers, and he looks from what’s left of the wardrobe to the door. He can’t wait to leave, escape the red of the room and go back to drooling over Hyunjin. . His words are laced with cyanide, or something much darker. He doesn’t man them, and now Jisung can see that he never has.

“No,” replies Jisung. His hands shake, the red so ready to break free. His mind is black, the burnt ashes of the fire that’s beginning to leave his body. He’s just as ruined as the walls around him, throbbing with an energy that moves his body for him. It’s so red, so angry, the fury that spins his mind in circles until he can only see in shades of crimson.

Seungmin shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, holding out the cassette again, “Please, this will explain. Jisung, please-” He’s pale, light in a room that’s only red.  _Should_  only be red. Jisung’s never been this alive. He’s no red, so dark and the feeling is almost like a drug. The anger, the betrayal, the  _pain,_ all of it drips into one colour. So much brighter, light in his life. He paints over his cracks with it, letting it seep through the cracks in his china body.

It builds him back up, from the inside out, colouring him in something darker.

Something more powerful.

Something  _red._

“You’re not.” Jisung knows he isn’t, but he can’t care less. He’s so fed up of being played, he’s so tired of being left out. Treated like he’s nothing, the only one on the outside of the joke. He wanted to smile with them, not on his own. But now it’s red, and he’d red, and he’s never felt better. It’s bright, fire through his skin setting him alight with pain that feels sweet. He takes the lighter out of his pocket.

“Jisung-” says Seungmin. His eyes go to the lighter, and he  _pleads._ The smell gasoline is so strong that he can barely tell the apple is even there, so bright and bold that it drowns out all of the pain. The anger is there, but the burn is so sweet that it settles into his bones. It’s warm, so warm and so red.

“Jisung, please. I- We didn’t mean to.” Seungmin is sobbing. His eyes are so beautifully red, but his skin is pale and his words are hollow. “I’m so,  _so_ sorry, Jisung please, don’t do this, I’m sorry, please,  _please_ ,”

Jisung doesn’t listen. The lighter is red. He holds it out, and the flame is warm. It burns away the pain, the colours on his walls and the cracks in his heart. The anger consumes him, his head spinning with power. Seungmin doesn’t mean those words, he never has, but it’s nice to hear them. He’s so vulnerable now, so weak, so bright against the red that Jisung almost can’t look at him. He does though, he embraces the blinding pain, and he enjoys the sight. “Beg for it.”

Seungmin begs. “ _Please, please please please_ -“

It’s red.

Jisung drops the lighter. It licks at the blood on the floor, consumes the thick carpet and screams in ecstasy when it finds the sweet gasoline. The fire grows, like a beast rearing its head, shooting arms down the room until there’s nothing left but red. The apple bubbles, the paintings on the walls disappear in great plumes of smoke. They crumble to ashes in front of him, and he laughs.

No more make-believe. The hurt is gone, the pain he’s felt is gone, and in its place is red anger, red betrayal, red revenge.

Seungmin screams. He tries to push past the red, but it’s too strong and he’s too weak. It consumes him, sucking him down. He begins to feel what he did to Jisung as the flames lick at his skin, as he shrieks and begs for Jisung to stop, to let him go. The red covers him, hair burning, clothes falling away. He hurts, just like Jisung.

The fire burns until he’s red, just like Jisung.

The last of his screams begin to die down. The red has won, and the room is too warm for even Jisung to stand in. It begins to push at his skin, licking at his fingers, but the pain is nothing compared to the red inside him. Flames scratch at the ceiling, howling for a way out, leaving Seungmin- or what’s left of him on the floor.

He’s still whimpering, the red draining the very last of him away. Jisung almost thinks he hasn’t done enough, but the red finds the half-full bottle of gasoline, and burns with a new vengeance. Seungmin screams again with renewed energy. His voice hoarse, his own red mixing with Jisung’s on the carpet but Jisung is already walking away.

Anywhere away from here. He walks until he can’t hear Seungmin, until the red consumes the whole house, until the burning has destroyed more than his soul. He pushes through the gates, letting the red stain his fingers and push through the metal. It shrinks away from him, and the power is addicting. The trees shy away, the forest is silent.

And the world is red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major tw for character death (descriptive) and blood  
> if this is potentially triggering, avoid the third and final section of this chapter from EDEN.  
> if needed, i can comment what happened at that part so the story will still make sense
> 
>  
> 
> i listened to wow during that last bit :)
> 
> please leave a comment if you liked it! tell me what you think! (i want to see the reactions to jisung and seungmin hehe)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY FOR LEAVING YOU ON THAT LAST CHAPTER
> 
> tw for mentions of blood, a body (kind of), very brief mention of vomit

  
  
  
**THE IN-BETWEEN**

 

Hyunjin's body takes a few seconds to catch up with his brain. Felix hits the ground, Changbin's arms wrapped around him, hard enough that Hyunjin can hear the sound clearly. He sees the panic on Changbin's face, how the blonde boy beside him is running desperately towards Seungmin. He sees Felix's confusion, his arm going out to grab Seungmin, but only just brushing his arm. There are words caught in his throat, just short of falling out.

He's seen that kind of desperation before, seen how Changbin had pushed past the rules of reality to get to Felix in time. He couldn't let him go through that portal. The panic, the  _terror,_ of whatever was behind that door pushes him forwards, tackling Felix to the ground.

Hyunjin knows there's a reason he ran. The fright in Changbin's eyes is more than him not wanting Felix to go. No, it's much darker. He knows something they don't. It's something terrible, Hyunjin works out that much, something so horrific that it brings nausea to the back of his throat just thinking about it. The bad feeling he'd had earlier was right, and he wishes he'd tried harder to convince Seungmin not to go.

Because although Seungmin stands beside Felix, Changbin didn't go for him. His foot is in the portal, and Hyunjin already knows the doorway is opening. He tries to move forwards, but it's too late. He's not fast enough, his body is too heavy, pulled into the ground with the wight of the sky on his shoulders. Before he can even put a single foot forwards, he sees how Seungmin disappears in a flash of light, and he sees how the doorway doesn't reappear.

He runs.

Seungmin can't be gone. He  _can't_  be, he'd never leave Hyunjin like that, not without a good reason. Hyunjin had seen his face, he'd seen how Seungmin's eyes had widened slightly. How his mouth opened, words just shy of leaving. His hands had gone out, the sudden realisation that he was alone, that Felix wasn't with him, before he- Before he was gone.

Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Maybe he's still there, Hyunjin just can't see through the panic in his mind. It could be doing things to his eyes, pulling at his head, making him think that the worst has happened. All he has to do is believe that- that Seungmin's still there.

The trees in front of him are hidden with shadows without the shimmering patch of light, like they were hiding something much darker all along. The wind whips around him, lashing at his skin with cold hands, tearing at his clothes and his hair. The grass beneath his feet is damp, and when he falls to his knees where Seungmin's footsteps stop, the dew soaks through his jeans.

Beside him, Felix throws Changbin off in a flurry of fingernails and bite-marks. They're both covered with mud stains, their skin painted with brown streaks. There's grass in Felix's hair, and skid marks in the soft ground leading up to them. He scrambles away from the dark-haired boy even though he's still out of breath, eyes on fire. "What are you doing?"

Hyunjin can't speak. His mouth has stopped moving, just like the rest of his body. His hands fall to the ground, his fingers limply tracing the imprint of Seungmin's shoe. It's like his blood has been replaced with ice. It creeps along his spine, fracturing the bones there, reaching cold fingers out through his body. His lips are numb, fingers turning blue.

Changbin pushes himself up from the ground. He hasn't come out well from the fall- or maybe it was Felix's attempts to make him let go. There are three red lines down his cheek, scratches just beginning to bead up. His hair is messed up, there's mud on his forehead, and he spits out blood onto the grass before he speaks. "You can't go there."

"What- what do you mean?" Felix throws himself up off the ground with so much force that he immediately topples back over. He hits the grass again, but it doesn't stop him from scrambling over to where Hyunjin is staring blankly at the ground.

The blonde boy walks past them. He looks worried, but not for them. Instead, he chooses to focus his attention on Changbin, the one person who caused this whole mess in the first place. Couldn't he see that they had a plan, couldn't he see that he'd ruined everything? Why did he have to push Felix?

Why did he leave Seungmin all alone?

_Why did Hyunjin leave Seungmin all alone?_

"You're hurt," says blonde boy. He turns Changbin's face until he can see his split lip properly, and frowns, going out to wipe some of the blood that's still trickling down his face away.

Changbin pushes him away. "Leave it, Chan," he growls, trying to stand and make his way over to Felix. His legs give way before he makes it, and he almost crashes to the ground again. Chan puts his arm around him before he actually makes contact, letting the smaller boy rest his weight on him. Together, they stumble their way towards where the portal is. Where it  _used_ to be.

Felix stops them. His presence leaves Hyunjin's side, almost out of sight. Hyunjin can't move his eyes from the ground, can't think of anything other than _the fact that he failed Seungmin,_ but out of the corner of his eye he sees Felix. He pushes Changbin, anger so powerful that it begins to melt away the ice that keeps Hyunjin's limbs pinned to his sides.

"What did you do?" He yells, pushing him again. Changbin's holding his wrist in a strange way, but he stands tall. His chin is raised, even with his lip still bleeding down his chin, and doesn't push Felix back. "Where's Seungmin?"

"Eden," says Chan. Felix's arms stutter mid-air, frozen from where he was about to shove Changbin again. Hyunjin can pinpoint the moment he realises what he's doing, the anger seeping from his bones and revealing the fear that it was masking all along. He stumbles backwards, closer to Hyunjin again.

Changbin shakes his head. His eyes are firmly fixed on the ground, cheeks red from something it takes Hyunjin a second to place. He's  _embarrassed_ , ashamed. He tackled Felix, and he doesn't regret that. Instead, there's something else. A reason why he's avoiding looking at Hyunjin. "I couldn't let you go in there."

Felix doesn't want to listen. It's obvious in the way he keeps turning his head from Changbin, going from Hyunjin to the portal and back again. "We had a plan," he insists, but his voice is weak. Hyunjin almost wants to scream, to cry and punch him. They'd trusted that his plan would work,  _Seungmin_  had trusted that his plan would work, and now Felix was admitting he didn't even have confidence in it himself. "We- we had a plan."

"You had a plan for how Eden used to be," says Chan. His voice is level, his tone calm despite how shaken the rest of them look. Even Changbin still won't look up from the ground. "You've got to understand that we didn't expect you to come back. Otherwise we would have never let his this happen," he glances at Hyunjin, who's still frozen in place, "We never would have let Seungmin go."

"We had a plan," insists Felix, like a broken record, trying to convince himself as much as everyone around him.

Chan looks him in the eye. "Eden has changed."

"No- you don't understand, we were going to give him the cassette,  _we had a plan_ -"

"Jisung knows."

Everyone turns to look at Changbin. Even Hyunjin snaps his head up, eyes wide, heart so desperately begging for it not to be true. But he doesn't break eye-contact with the ground, he hands go to tiny fists, and it's so obvious he couldn't like about this even if he wanted to. Felix freezes, "What?"

"Jisung knows. The portal, we barely understood it in the first place- it seemed too unstable to ever work, but now..."

Hyunjin chokes. It's like his body suddenly kick-starts into motion, filling him with a wild, dangerous energy. He stands up shakily, but the fire in his eyes drowns out his weak legs. Seungmin. They need to get Seungmin.  _He_ needs to get Seungmin.

"It was a wardrobe," says Felix, eyes wide, "A wardrobe and an apple. The apple was what took you here, but the wardrobe, I don't know, stabilised it or something."

Changbin flinches at the mention of an apple, but glances at Chan, who nods. "That would-"

"If the wardrobe was affected, it would change the stability of the apple," he continues. "We can only assume that it was destroyed. Eden is not the same place you left it."

Jisung.

Hyunjin knows it. He's the only one, the only one of them who could have destroyed the wardrobe, the only one who's spreading darkness could have reached as far as The In-Between. He's dangerous, Hyunjin always knew he was dangerous, and now Seungmin-

Now Seungmin is trapped in there with him.

"Take me there."

All heads go to face him. There's a mixture of shock, confusion and pity in their expressions. They know Seungmin's gone, they all feel bad for him, but none of them  _care._ He doesn't need their pity, he doesn't need the sad looks, because Seungmin isn't gone. He needs their power, so he can get him back.

"Hyunjin-" starts Felix, but Hyunjin ignores him.

"Take me there. You create the doorways, right? So create one to Eden, and take me there."

"It's not that easy," says Chan, but the hesitation in his voice tells him there's a million more reasons why he doesn't want him to go. "It's not safe. You might not make it back."

Can't they see? Can't they see that he doesn't care? He doesn't care about not making it back, he cares about he cares that Seungmin is somewhere out there, confused and unable to come back _._ Seungmin, alone in a world that's crumbling to pieces. Seungmin, knowing they're somewhere out there, waiting for them to arrive and take him back.

He doesn’t care about himself.

He cares about Seungmin.

“Take me there,” he says, “Please. I can’t leave him there, I  _can’t_.”

Changbin looks up. His eyes are tired, his face worn down by Felix’s fire. One of his eyes is glowing slightly, but it’s mostly hidden by where the skin around it has puffed up. His lip has only recently stopped bleeding, the dried blood still marking his face. He’s still holding his wrist funny, and there’s dried mud in his hair. “Okay,” he says.

Chan spins round to stare at him. “Bin,” he says, “But- Jisung, and it’s dangerous, do you really..? You can’t-” His eyes go from injury to injury, as if he’s trying to work out whether he’s got a concussion or something. Maybe he has, maybe that's the only reason he's offering. Hyunjin doesn’t care. All he knows is that they need to get Seungmin back, as soon as possible. “ _We_  can’t hold it open for long. Are you sure?”

“I am.” There’s something in his eyes when he goes back to face Hyunjin. A glance, so quick it was almost unnoticeable, towards Felix. It’s not something he would have seen normally, but everything seems to be happening in slow-motion. His whole body is frozen, ice creeping from limb to limb and clouding his breath. His head hurts, his heart screams at him to stop wasting time, and he realises Changbin isn’t doing this for him or Seungmin.

He’s doing it for Felix.

Maybe it’s always been that way. Hyunjin’s always been so caught up in himself, so selfish that he’d never really taken other people into consideration. Seungmin had changed that from him, made him open his eyes. He knew what Hyunjin was under all those layers of self-obsession: a scared boy who kept himself wrapped up in his own head to keep himself safe.

Seungmin stood up for him, so Hyunjin could see that it wasn’t so black and white. It wasn’t him against the world, and he didn’t need to be so on edge. They were so caught up in their own emotions together, so focused on changing each other for the better that they couldn’t see how it affected anyone else.

Felix, standing by the side-lines. They just couldn’t see him.

It was always going to be Felix. 

Changbin walks up to him, but his eyes go behind Hyunjin’s frozen body. Felix, a candle in the darkness that they hadn’t even realised they were creating. “Just think of me,” he says, and he almost isn’t speaking to him, “I’ll be there. Think of me, and you’ll come back.”

“Hurry,” says Chan. He stands to Hyunjin’s other side, hand on Changbin’s shoulder. One eye glows, in the same way that his does. Red and blue, two forces joining together. Not for Hyunjin, not for Seungmin, but for Felix. “You don’t have much time. Eden is collapsing, and if you don’t get out of there in time, you’ll be taken with it.”

Hyunjin nods.

They might be doing it for Felix, but he isn’t. This is for Seungmin- who  _can’t be gone, who is just waiting for him on the other side._  He just needs to find him, get him out of there. He needs to melt the ice from his skin, drain the frostbite from his fingers as he pulls him close.

_Seungmin._

Changbin flexes his fingers, his nails digging into his shoudler. His eye glows brighter, joining the light from Chan's until it's all he can see. They merge together, brilliant, blinding purple stripping all other colours from his vision. There's a spike of pain, something dark through his gut. Maybe it should be more painful, but Hyunjin is numb. He's so cold.

And he's gone.

 

 

**EDEN**

 

He's not in the basement. It's the first thing he notices, because he was expecting dust and darkness, the damp walls surrounding him. Somewhere, maybe he was hoping he'd find Seungmin there, no matter how illogical that would be. His fingers are pinched over his nose in an effort not to inhale the clouds of dust, but his hand falls way when he realises something is very wrong.

He can see the sky.

There are clouds above his head, creating a grey film over the world. The fog is heavy, the air hanging low with a different intention from Earth. There's no heat or humidity, but the sky whispers with the slightest hint of lighting, threatening to rain with every passing second. It's cold, even if it's nowhere near the temperature of his frozen soul, and the air is thick with something he can't identify.

Something about the weather catches his eye, something stranger than the swirling mist. Not only is the fog so different from the usual light rain, it asks the question of how he knows the weather's changed in the first place. How is it possible for him to be seeing the sky? He should be inside right now, even if he wasn't in the basement. The only way he should be able to see the sky from inside the house is if he stuck his head out of a window, or stood on the thin strip of grass between the house and the gates.

That's when there's a particularly strong gust of wind. The sky gets heavier, fat raindrops hitting the ground around him, seemingly from out of nowhere. They catch his hair, soaking through his thin clothes in a matter of seconds. The temperature drops another few degrees, until it's so,  _so cold_. Even with the fog so thick that he can barely see a metre in front of him, the sudden breeze clears the mist away for just long enough.

Eden is gone.

He's standing in rubble. Huge chunks of wall reduced to dust around him, so many ceilings and floors all tumbled in on one another. The sky is exposed through the what could barely be called the skeleton of the house, a last few stone walls standing proudly amongst the ruins. There are shards of coloured glass by his feet, windows that splintered to millions of pieces. There're only a few bricks separating this room and the one he's standing next to, and from there on the house has been swallowed by the ground.

The basement, the basement he should have been standing in, the basement that _Seungmin could have been standing in_ , has reduced the rooms above it to a gaping black mouth. A crystal chandelier lies by its side, framing the hole like teeth. He tries to take a step forwards, but the fog swirls around him again. It covers the scene like a blanket, so thick he can't see through it, almost as if it were never there.

That's when he notices the smell.

Despite the cold, despite the wind and the rain, the stone by his feet is still warm. Sheltered by a few tiles, originally from one of the many bathrooms, a tiny fire still smoulders in the cradle of the room. Hyunjin can't imagine it's the only one, and when he tears his eyes away from it, it's like he's seeing the room again for the first time.

Black stains of ash and soot streak across the ground, the barest remains of flames starting to simmer down as the rain hits them. He doesn't know how he didn't notice the stench before. The world is filled with smoke, mixed in with the fog until Eden is painted a dark, ashy grey. It fills his lungs, the dust he was expecting replaced by something much worse. It makes him gag, the taste hitting the back of his throat and causing his eyes to water. His body stings with the exposure, and he drops to his knees.

There was a fire here.

The walls are licked with flames, the heavy curtains in the corner only just having withstood the intensity of the flames. The ground beneath his feet is still mostly softly, and he presses his face to it as he chokes out the smoke from his lungs. His eyes still burn, but it's better here. The rain washes the warmth from his skin, dragging him back to the numbing cold.

There are coloured drops near his face, so small he wouldn't notice them if his face weren't so close. Bright colours, so firmly ingrained in the stone they must have been there for months. There's a thin layer of ash above them, so they must have been covered by a carpet of some sort. His fingers go out to brush across them, and with the movement he suddenly realises what they are, where he is, and where Seungmin is.

The universe is playing one last cruel trick on him.

They're paint drops.

He's in Jisung's room, because the movement brushed away more ash than he was expecting, revealing the flowers painted so delicately onto the floor. It shows the barest corner of a lake, roses growing from nearby bushes, and he can even just about make out the painted top of his head. Jisung stands by him, smiling, Felix grinning and holding his hand. Seungmin's character has been almost completely covered with a dark red stain. Not faded to coppery brown yet.

Hyunjin knows Seungmin is here.

The universe is toying with them. It always has been, and always will. It's a cruel twist of fate that he's pressed to the floor in Jisung's room, next to a ruined picture of what could have been, as the world burns down around him. It's laughing as his tears join the raindrops painting the floor, because when the fog had cleared there had been no one standing by him.

There's bile in his throat, a sickening nausea that threatens to rise at any moment as he craws through the rubble. The shards of tile scrape his knees, the rain and ash binding together to coat his arms. His fingers are red and raw from the cold, and his fringe is in his eyes, making it impossible to see clearly. He's shaking, and not just from the cold.

In front of him, the rain has washed off the soot from part of the collapsed roof in front of him. He can see where the ash pools onto the floor, and where the smoke is so deeply set into the material that it'll never leave. He can see just a few metres in front of him, trapped under metal and stone and the sky's tears. Pale fingers reach out towards him.

The rain clears them from any remaining dirt, the nails stained dark with soot brushing against the ground. Streams of black liquid drip down the wrist just poking out from the debris. The palm faces the sky, and nestled there, barely balancing in the loose grip, is a charred cassette tape.

Seungmin.

Hyunjin doesn't think. The smoke doesn't seem to burn his throat anymore, and even if it did, it's nothing compared to the burning in his heart. He throws himself across the remains of the room, scrambling over to Seungmin's hand. It's so pale- that can't be good- that never could be good-  _this never should have happened Seungmin never should have come-_

He ignores the pain in his own hands as he tears the rubble away. It's too heavy, there's no way Seungmin is uninjured if he's trapped under all of this. The metal is jagged, slicing his palms until there's dark blood trickling down his wrists, dripping onto Seungmin. It's so dark, and he's so pale, and Hyunjin almost has to turn away. He gags, because Seungmin  _shouldn't be that pale._ Where's his golden skin, where's him sitting up and pulling Hyunjin closer, where's him saying that  _everything is fine._

Everything is not fine.

Seungmin is not fine

He's lying in the ruins of their home, the place where he'd grown up burnt to ashes around him. His skin is pale and his eyes are closed. He looks so peaceful, even in the wreckage. There's no blood on his face, even if the skin on one side of his nose is pink and raw, the eye there swollen shut. His hair is still soft, sheltered from the rain by the debris on top of him.

Hyunjin could almost believe he's just sleeping.

He uncovers the last of Seungmin's waist from the soot-stained ivory piano keys that lie there, and promptly throws up. There's barely enough time to turn from Seungmin's body, the bile that had been threatening to surface spills from his mouth as he empties his stomach.

His legs- oh god, his legs-

Seungmin is not okay, Seungmin is  _not fine he'll never be fine and maybe neither will Hyunjin. He never should have gone they never should have come-_

_What had Jisung done?_

Hyunjin can't make himself look. The fire had not been kind to Seungmin, and Hyunjin has a sick idea of why. The charred drawings, the cassette still in his hand, Jisung's absence... It all adds up, piling onto his shoulders with a twisting of his stomach. His heart drops, desperation sinking into his movements. "No-" he whispers, no longer able to keep the pleas inside, "Oh no, Seungmin... Minnie, please-"

His breath hitches. There are more tears on his cheeks than raindrops, his hands shaking. They go to Seungmin's shoulders, pushing them desperately in an attempt to get him to move-  _to get him to do anything._ "Min- Minnie, please- I- please wake up... please." He sniffs, wiping his eyes pathetically. Seungmin's head rolls backwards, suddenly exposed to the weather. His skin is cold, the last remains of warmth draining out. "I can't do this alone- Minnie, wa- wake up  _please_."

He doesn't.

Of course he doesn't.

He doesn't, and he won't ever again, because his skin is too pale, his hand lies limply by his side, his legs are- Hyunjin gags again. He's so cold and the rain slices through his body like tiny frozen needles, but he doesn't care. Seungmin- he can't leave Seungmin here,  _he'd left Seungmin to come here alone._

The rain seems to get stronger. There's a crash to his left, unstable remains of walls tumbling to the floor as the weight of water gets to much. Hyunjin crumbles like them, bent over Seungmin. His breathing is uneven, his face red from crying, his heart shattered into tiny pieces. He feels ill, so ill that he doesn't know if he'll ever be okay again, and even if the shock has stopped the guilt from properly sinking in yet, he can't help the painful cramps in his stomach. His hands smooth through Seungmin's hair, brushing it from his forehead so tenderly. He could be sleeping, but he's not.

Hyunjin screams.

He screams into an empty house. It's loud, every emotion he's ever kept tied up inside him. It's pure desperation, frustration and hatred all pressed into one, bouncing off what remained of the place he'd grown up. They'd been happy once; he'd lain he when he was a child with his  _friends_ and stared at the ceiling with them.

When Hyunjin still felt like the world wasn't such a harsh place to be in, before he was a scared child hiding how much the harsh words hurt him by firing them straight back. Before he realised how much he hurt everyone around him by not being able to see anything further than his own selfish desires.

When Felix still spoke up for himself, before he felt like he always had to be in the middle of everything, never quite able to make his own choices. Before he was a shell of someone he could have been, trying to work out who he wanted to be.

When Jisung still smiled, before the anger took him and ate him away from the inside out. Before the only place he felt safe was in his own dreams, before he was so consumed by fire and hatred and fear that he couldn't take it anymore.

When Seungmin's chest still moved. Before he was lying in the ruins of a room they used to play in, painted with his blood in a sick imitation of someone else's wishes. Before he was still, skin pale, eyes closed, fingers twitching-

Fingers twitching.

Seungmin's finger moves, brushing over the melted plastic of the cassette. It's such a small movement that he almost didn't notice it- so tiny and insignificant, except  _it's not._ Hyunjin's hands are shaking so badly he almost can't feel anything for a second, but faintly,  _so barely there it's so weak,_ he can feel a heartbeat.

A  _heartbeat._

_He's alive._

"Minnie-" Hyunjin's voice breaks, he sobs and his hands are everywhere, pulling Seungmin's weak body closer to him. He pulls him to his chest, feeling how cold his skin is and hugging him tightly. Oh god- oh god  _oh god, they need to get out of here._ What if Jisung comes back- no, what if Seungmin's too weak to make it. His chest might still be moving, but it's irregular and the thought of losing him again makes Hyunjin wants to throw up.

They need to get back.

They need to get back to Changbin, he'd promised he could bring them back, maybe  _he could make everything better, he could make Seungmin better._

It would be okay.

It has to be okay- Seungmin is going to wake up again and they'll be happy again. He just has to get back, then they can fix Seungmin's legs and his eye and he'll be fine all over again. They don't have to worry about anything anymore- just as long as Seungmin is okay Hyunjin doesn't care about anything else.

He closes his eyes and believes. Seungmin's so cold against his chest, the rain soaking them both through. The fog swirls around them, Hyunjin breathes in just as Seungmin's heart stutters, the cassette still tight in his hand.

The last two hearts beating in Eden turns, for a second, into one. It's an empty shell of a reality, so corrupt that it took itself down from the inside out. It's left an empty shell of the home it once was, of the home it should have been. The list of the rules is nothing more than ash, the inhabitants broken and beaten to the floor. Hyunjin pulls Seungmin tighter.

Then they're gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is seungmin dead or not?  
> the mystery deepens, find out next chapter!
> 
> thank you for all the comments on the last chapter, it was really interesting to see what you all thought!!! (aka i sat and laughed evilly for a bit)


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

**EARTH**

 

The dust coats this pair of shoes as well. He'd actually thought ahead this time (something that surprised even Jeongin himself), and had decided not to take his roller-skates. There were way too many tree roots in the path for him to travel safely, and he didn't particularly fancy the extra movement in this suffocating weather. Instead, he'd worn his pair of beaten-up trainers. They weren't that broken after all, so he'd superglued the front part down to the sole (again), and ignored when they simply broke again three minutes away from his house.

It had probably been a good decision. He did  _not_ want to end up with a broken nose from tripping over a stone, since he couldn't think of a single person who'd come and help him if he did. It's not like he could phone anyone in his family, since they were most-likely preoccupied with his thousands of little siblings and cousins, and all of his friends were-

Well. He didn't want to stress Woojin out anymore, Seungmin was still ill, Minho wouldn't pick up the phone even if Jeongin was bleeding out, and Chan was missing.

Wearing trainers was definitely a good decision.

The only problem is that they're his only other pair of shoes. Broken and stained as they may be, he can't exactly go and ask his parents for anymore. They might not want him to know, but he knows they don't exactly have the money to be spending on shoes. His siblings need school uniforms, his cousins seem to always have birthdays coming up, and he doesn't want to be a bother. Except, now they're covered with dust, the front part of his right shoe has come completely off, and there are more knots in the laces of the left than missed calls on Minho's phone.

And maybe he's obsessing over his shoes in an attempt to distract himself from the shimmering air in front of him.

He's almost in the exact same place he was when he first found the cassette. It was here, he remembers, because of the bushes and trees that surround this spot. It's so incredibly distinctive that the scenery has burnt itself into his mind. It's what he sees behind his eyelids, a perfect scenery to accompany the low buzz that never seems to leave his ears. He'd know this place anywhere.

There's also a huge ash stain on the dust track, but that's beside the point.

The cassette is still clutched in his right hand. He doesn't quite want to leave it behind, not after everything it's told him, but he doesn't have a small enough bag to carry it in. It leaves dark stains on his palm, somehow still covering every surface it touches with soot. It's even managed to get under his fingernails, and he's been leaving black finger-prints everywhere he goes, meaning his clothes are  _covered_  with hand-prints.

He can imagine what Chan would say. He'd roll his eyes, teasing Jeongin as if he were a three-year-old with no impulse control, but then he'd smile. He'd know the best ways to lift the stain when Jeongin didn't want to ask his parents and disturb them. Knowing Chan, he'd probably end up covered in stains himself, and then they'd have to start the whole cycle all over again.

He can imagine what Chan's reaction to this would be. Jeongin, standing in front of a  _portal to another reality,_ ready to jump through it without a second thought. He'd criticise him for not telling anyone where he'd gone- no, he'd wouldn't even let him go in the first place. He never would have gotten this far- since he never would have listened to the cassette on his own, and as soon as the low beep had started telling him stuff, Chan would have thrown it out of the window.

Then he probably would have gone here on his own, doing exactly what he would have stopped Jeongin from doing. If he'd heard the same as Jeongin had-  _the universe ending, multiple realities, a space in-between of this world and another, three persons united to restore balance-_ he would have done some self-sacrificing type bullshit without telling anyone, and disappear without a trace.

Oh wait.

That sounded suspiciously similar to what had actually happened.

Jeongin had no doubt in his mind that Chan would give up his life for them in an instant. It was just the type of person he was; endlessly caring and so concerned with helping others that he never stopped to think about himself. If he thought he was doing something to help them, he'd always sacrifice himself.  _Always._  His disappearance lined up perfectly with the message from the cassette.

It made sense. It explained why he'd left his life behind, why he hadn't contacted them, why he'd let Woojin go out of his mind with worry. He'd never wanted to hurt them by simply not turning up one day, it was a spur of the moment decision. It wasn't some sort of kidnapping, or that he'd simply run away. As Jeongin worked out from the tape, he'd had a choice.

He could save the universe. Become one of the three people in the space in-between, and restore balance. He'd get all these crazy-cool powers, but all that Chan would care about was that they were safe.

Because if he refused the offer, the universe would take them down with it. It was condemning them to oblivion, even if he could stay by their sides. If he accepted, he'd never be able to talk to them, or even visit them again, but he'd know they were safe and that was all that really mattered.

Of course Chan would take it.

Chan, who sat with him every lunch. Chan, who talked him through his homework, who always knew when Jeongin was struggling, who never made him feel small or insignificant. Chan, who sewed up the holes in his clothes when he stayed for the night, and then pretended it wasn't him.

Chan, who always acted so domestic with Woojin, laughing with him on the swings about the smallest things because he knew it made Woojin happy, and  _now Jeongin wishes he hadn't complained so much._

Chan, who always made sure Seungmin was properly charged and didn't feel more metal than human, so Jeongin wasn't the only one who worried about him, and  _now Jeongin wishes he hadn't felt like Chan was only doing because he thought Jeongin wasn't good enough._

Chan, who never knew exactly why Minho kept skipping school, but tempted him back safely each time and never let his absences stack up too high,  _and now Jeongin wishes he hadn't just told him to suck it up and talk to him._

Chan, who made sure Jeongin texted when got home safe, because he knew his parents wouldn't notice if one of their many children weren't there, and  _now Jeongin wishes he'd thanked Chan for letting him know someone cared._

Chan cared about all of them so much. He'd been faced with an impossible choice, and he'd chosen all of them over himself. He'd given up his life so they could live, and none of them had even realised. They'd been so caught up in their own problems that they hadn't joined the dots together, missed every clue and just carried on like he'd never existed in the first place.

Jeongin's going to change that.

He holds the cassette slightly tighter. He's already made his decision. It's why he doesn't care about the state of his shoes any more, why his phone is still on charge in his house with a message waiting to send to Seungmin. It'll explain everything: where he's gone, what happened to Chan, and why they shouldn't go looking for him. He's even managed to convince himself this isn't selfish, that it's not just his own selfish desire to see Chan again that has him leaving his entire world behind.

He's convinced himself it's better this way.

Woojin doesn't need him there for added stress. He's nothing more than another burden for the older boy, who's so caught up in Chan's disappearance that Jeongin's not even sure he'd notice he was gone. Jeongin can't quite forget the last time they met; how Woojin's eyes had filled with frustration and disappointment as Jeongin had yet again caused more trouble than he was worth. He doesn't blame the older boy for having his number blocked.

Minho will probably be glad. It's one less person knocking on his door trying to convince him to do stuff he doesn't want to. Without Jeongin there, Seungmin won't come around anymore, and he'll be free to waste his days away. He'll be able to go out and buy his juice boxes without being bothered by annoying kids, content in his own solitude.

And Seungmin. He deserves better friends. Jeongin knows this, and he knows he'll never be good enough. Maybe with Jeongin out of the way, his new friends won't forget when he needs charging. They'll figure out why he always seems so sad, and they can make him feel more human that Jeongin ever has.

He's convinced himself that it's okay to leave them all behind. They won't miss him really, and once they know that he's gone to find Chan, they'll understand.

The cassette was meant for him.

He'd found it nestled in the dust on a path no one went down. It was charred and burnt, so destroyed that even if someone had walked down this way, they wouldn't have given it a second glance. The universe may work in coincidences and unexplained mysteries, but he can't believe that this is either.

The chances are too slim, and the message on the cassette too important. It was put there deliberately, so he'd find it. The low beep had explained everything so vividly, and the fact that he was the only one of Chan's friends who hadn't got too many other problems, made too much sense to be anything but fate.

It was meant for him, in the dusty heat of the afternoon, with Seungmin falling ill and his house empty. It was meant for him, in the pressing humidity, having not realised Seungmin was low on power despite knowing him for years. It was meant for him, in the cool shade of the trees, with coincidence after coincidence staking up on top of each other until it wasn't a coincidence anymore.

He can’t think about this any longer.

If he does, he’ll manage to talk himself out of it. His fear will get the better of him, and he’ll never be able to see Chan again. He’d be too ashamed to tell anyone else about his discovery, and he’s already got that message to Seungmin queued up, so it would be pretty awkward to not actually disappear.

The heat of the world seems to get stronger, just for a second.

Jeongin doesn’t know what’s on the other side of this shimmering patch of air, but he wants to find out. He's ready, even if he can't quite stop feeling as he's making a mistake. There is more to his world than his battered roller-skates, and he wants to find out why.

He steps through the portal, and Earth fades away behind him like the faintest ghost of a touch on his skin.

 

 

**THE WOODS**

 

The first thing he notices is how cool it is. Not the leaves, not the clouds in the sky, not even the massive tree in front of him which has a trunk about three times wider than him and is so tall that he can’t actually see where it ends.

No, the first thing he notices is that it’s cooler here than on Earth. It’s kind of on-brand for him, considering how much he’s been complaining about the heat lately, but it doesn’t give a good impression of how perceptive he is. So, once he’s gotten over how cold the air is (very cold; it doesn’t make his lungs feel like they’re burning, and the absence of humidity is also very pleasing), he makes sure to take in the rest of his surroundings properly.

He’s in a forest.

There are huge trees surrounding him, each one larger than any tree he’s ever seen before. The leaves on their branches seem to move without any wind, their quiet rustling setting him on edge. Even the ground is covered by leaves, a carpet so thick that the grass beneath it is barely visible. The sky is dotted with clouds, a few of them dark and hanging heavy with rain. The thought of rain make Jeongin practically salivate, even the slightest concept sounding so, _so nice_  to his desert-dry upbringing.

This must be The Woods that the cassette mentioned.

The trees are kind of a huge giveaway, so he wracks his brain for any information he’d been given. He hadn’t thought he’d end up here, to be honest. He’d expected to step out into The In-between, and then  _Chan would be right there._

So what had the cassette told him? Something about an ancient presence, the beginning of two mirror worlds splitting apart. The trees could hear him, right? At least, he thought that’s what the cassette had told him. If he hadn’t, well, then he’d just look a bit stupid.

“Hello?” He says, speaking to the emptiness. There’s no reply, but he wasn’t really expecting one and continues anyway. “My name is Yang Jeongin.”

The rustling of the leaves picks up in intensity. What had once been a quiet background noise morphs into something so loud he can’t shut it out. Even with his hands over his ears, the deafening sound doesn’t stop, ringing through his mind over and over again until he’s forced forwards. Closer to the huge tree, he realises, until he’s only a few metres away.

_Why are you here?_ says a voice in his ear, until he realises it wasn’t in his ear. Whoever- whatever- is speaking, had said it directly into his mind. He spins round to identify the source of the voice, but there’s only leaves behind him.  _Did Changbin and Chan send you?_

Jeongin doesn’t know who Changbin is, but he recognises the name Chan, and if the appearance of the cassette in his life was the work of Changbin and Chan then- yes, they did send him. “Yes,” he replies, spinning round again in a futile attempt to catch sight of whoever he’s talking to, “Where are you?”

The rustling of the leaves gets slightly louder, and Jeongin puts two and two together just as the voice explains.  _Silly boy,_ says the voice- says the leaves.  _We’re right here._

And they are. The leaves- the voice of The Woods itself- surround him. They flutter from branch to branch, ghost across the sky above him, coat the ground beneath his feet. There’s a brief silence,and Jeongin can’t help but feel like they’re inspecting him. Looking him up and down, working out whether he’s right or not.  _You’re a strange one,_ they whisper eventually,  _you’re different. There’s nothing we can do for you to make this easier._

“Make what easier?” asks Jeongin, and then realises what they’re talking about exactly one second after the words leave his mouth. Becoming one of the Fated Three. That’s what they’re talking about, but the words they use don’t exactly reassure him.

He has a bad feeling about this.

Like he should run back, go home to Earth and never mention this whole experience ever again. He can’t, of course, since the portal had disappeared behind him, but that doesn’t stop his legs from shaking beneath him. There’s a feeling in his gut that something his wrong. Everything just seems slightly off, like he shouldn’t be here.

_This may be slightly uncomfortable, but nothing more. Are you ready?_

Is he?

Is he ready?

The bad feeling spreading through his body tells him to say no. That this is all one big mistake, that he should just run while he still can. He swallows it down as fear, bracing himself and digging his nails into his palms. He is ready. He can do this.

This is for Chan. This is for Woojin and Minho and Seungmin.

This is for him.

His eyelids flutter closed. This is his decision, his choice, and he’s doing the right thing. There’s a slight breeze, one that he hadn’t felt before, that brushes his skin. It soothes him, reminding him that it’s okay to let his guard down. This is for his friends, this is for the universe, this is for finally being noticed. “I’m ready.”

_Open your eyes,_ whisper the leaves.

Jeongin does.

The world changes. He’s immediately filled with a foreign energy- his soul beginning to bind with the others. It’s relaxing at first; nothing more than a warm tingle that starts in his fingers and slowly stretches over the rest of his body. It makes his hands twitch for a few seconds, but after a while he finds he can’t move at all. His limbs have frozen solid, pressed against his sides where he’d left them.

He can’t help that he panics. It’s not particularly a nice sensation, being trapped in your own body, and so he pulls against the restraints in his mind. The tingling sensations gets stronger, until it’s more than a slight pinch. His skin almost… burns. There’s a fire inside him, one born from emotions that he doesn’t recognise.

This- whatever this is- isn't right. He can't imagine that this is the feeling he's supposed to be experiencing. The woods had said it would be uncomfortable, but this is something more. There's a fiery tug in his soul, but it's so hot that it burns, searing through his skin with the smell of burnt flesh. There's no comforting presence by his side, nothing except him and the endless expanse of the universe.

His blood is gold, pure molten metal running through his veins. It moves his body by himself, tilting his face up to the sky in an endless scream. His eyes flutter open, the light so bright it physically hurts to look. Everything is on fire, every inch of his body pleading for release. Where the sunlight hits his skin through the dappled shade erupts into agony. The fire is too much. It consumes his body, pushing into every corner of his soul.

How is anyone supposed to survive flames this strong?

He chokes for breath on the feeling, throat seizing up until there are black spots dancing across his vision. His lungs burn, and he sinks to his knees. His legs are too unsteady to hold his weight, his head pounding so hard that he can't keep his balance, and he hits the ground hard. The leaves push into his bare legs, twigs and grass stroking his skin in a desperate attempt to comfort him.

It's- it's red.

The fire, the pain,  _the hurt and the anguish_. It's not his, and it's all so red. He can't imagine who this belongs to,  _the fire is so strong, everything is so red,_ but this isn't his pain. His- his is a different type of loneliness, a need for validation desperate attempt to be noticed. It's a softer orange, the shades more subdued and delicate than the burning scarlet that feels his body now. Less bright, less fiery, and for the first time, he finally realises something.

He isn't supposed to be here.

This pain isn't his, and this place isn't his.

The woods wanted Chan and that was all. It was content to leave Earth alone from there, except Jeongin had stormed in and assumed this was where he was meant to be. He'd the slightest bit of attention, the barest corner of a coincidence, and he'd been so desperate for someone to notice him that he'd ignored all the obvious signs.

There's no one by his side. He can't feel their souls beside them, because he isn't the first piece. All he feels is pain, a greater misery of a mistake it's too late to correct.

_You can feel them,_ the woods whispers. The leaves flutter from tree to tree, caught in the wind and tumbling down, but never quite brushing the ground. There's glee in its tone, excitement that the final piece of the puzzle has finally arrived.

He can't tell it that it's wrong. There's an underlying power in the woods that hums through his bones, such strength that he can imagine what it would do to him if it found out. It would have no use for an imposter once it knew he was lying, and if what's supposed to be a blessing hurts this much, Jeongin doesn't want to find out what the punishment would be.

"Yes," he breathes out, his ribs aching with every syllable, "They're- they're here."

The wind picks up. It lifts the branches of the trees into a frenzy, wild and untamed. The leaves swirl around him like a hurricane. He almost flinches when it starts to close in around him, but his body has completely seized up. He's overrun with flames, his only solace a slither of ice behind his eye.

It's so cold amongst the fire, still painful but in a different way. If he could still move his hands, he would press his fingers to the spot in a desperate attempt to reassure himself that it wasn't missing. It's a stupid thought, since it's not like there's any way his eye would actually be gone, but logic is really starting to lose its reliability here.

_Purple,_ whispers The Woods. A twig leaves the hurricane of leaves for just long enough that it can stroke his cheek. It sounds slightly confused, but with just enough underlying excitement that Jeongin can tell it's not a big deal.

Purple.

His eye is purple, and he can already feel the ice beginning to put out the flames in the rest of his body. The red begins to fade away into a softer lilac, building up at the sides to deep indigo. His orange fear is overwritten with calm purple, each colour blending into the other. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he'd never been orange at all. That the purple is all he's ever known, and-

_You don't need to remember anymore,_  whisper the leaves, and Jeongin's eyes shoot open. Chan- is this what happened to Chan? Not only that he wasn't able to visit them, he wouldn't even remember who they were if he did. It was cruel, but Chan would have taken it without a second thought if it meant saving his friends.

The purple gets stronger, painting over every part of him that had ever been orange.  _Forget,_ says The Woods, and there's a strange tickling sensation at the back of Jeongin's mind. It doesn't hurt, doesn't feel anything more than slightly uncomfortable, but he fights against it.

He doesn't want to forget.

This isn't right, he's not supposed to be here, and he holds onto his memories with all of his remaining strength.

He has to remember Woojin. He has to remember Minho. He has to remember Seungmin. He has to remember Chan, because that was his whole reason for coming. He's not ready let go just yet, and so he  _fights._

The pinch gets stronger. It morphs into a sharp needle digging into his thoughts, red hot agony consuming his consciousness. For a second, his vision bursts into white. It hurts, it  _hurts it hurts it hurts,_ and Jeongin knows he's nothing against the power of The Woods. He could never fight against something so ancient, he never even had a chance. The force of the leaves drown him out, washing him over until it's all he's ever known.

Then it's over.

Whatever force had been keeping his body up drops him. His knees were already on the ground, but there's no support for the rest of his body when he crumples to the floor. His head hits the leaves, dirt smudging onto his cheek, all the energy draining out of his limbs until he's lying weak to the world. The sky above his head spins.

His stomach hurts, his ribs ache, and he's still so,  _so_ purple. He can barely see past the throbbing pain in his head, and the ice behind his eye has become excruciating. The red has been washed out by the cooler blue, but the purple it created sits heavy above his heart. There's a sick nausea in the back of his throat, and it's only through sheer determination that he manages to keep the bile from bubbling up.

The leaves rustle around him. The leaf hurricane is gone, the only sign that it was there a trail of devastation left behind it.  _Your name,_ say the leaves, even though they've already asked him, and Jeongin would be pretty concerned if one of the most powerful entities in the universe had short-term memory problems.  _What is your name?_

Jeongin opens his mouth to reply, but the words escape him. He's still too nauseous, his limbs still drained of energy. Speaking requires a strength he doesn't have, so he lies limp against the forest floor.

The Woods creaks, a strange way of laughing.  _Your name is Jeongin,_ the leaves say,  _you're here to save the world._

I know, he wants to say, why are you telling me what I already know? But his tongue is too heavy, however faint they are, he can still feel the distant presence of two souls by his side. He's part of the Three now. There's no denying it, no attempting to escape and get back, no trying to explain that he's the wrong person. This was all one huge mistake, that he  _just wanted to see Chan again,_ but he's already part of them now. Chan's soul is pressed up against his, and Jeongin won't ever be able to go home because he won't even remember that he has a hom-

Except he does.

He  _does_ remember.

He remembers Woojin, Minho and Seungmin, he remembers coming here to find Chan, he remembers having his friends around him. He remembers the heat of Earth, pressing up against his lungs and dripping down his skin. He remembers burning tarmac, the melting plastic of the slide in the park, empty chocolate milk cartons stacking up in the recycling. He remembers his ugly roller-skates, the cramped warmth of the rink, the cassette crumbling to ash in his hands.

He remembers everything that he isn't supposed to, and  _The Woods doesn't know._

The Woods- oh god, The Woods thinks he's forgotten everything. It thinks he's a blank slate, as much as it thinks he's the perfect fit for the last of the Three. It doesn't know that he's lying through his teeth, that he was never supposed to be in the first place, and he has the sick feeling that this can't be undone. He isn't supposed to here, in this place or in this situation. Everything is wrong, everything hurts, and he's going to cause the end of the universe.

He's not strong enough to be useful.

He's not useful enough to be important.

He's not important enough for anyone to ever notice him.

He has all this power on his shoulders, all this responsibility pressing down on him, and yet he'll never be able to do anything about it. He's too weak- always has been, always will be. By coming here, he's stopped the true path of the fate from happening. He's stolen this power from whoever was supposed to have it, someone stronger, someone brighter, someone  _red._

He's not red, he's purple, and it  _hurts._

_You'll wake up safe,_ whisper the leaves,  _they'll explain everything._

Jeongin wants to tell them no. He wants to explain everything, but he's too weak to even open his mouth, and he's too scared. An imposter, too afraid of angering the universe to admit he's been lying the whole time. He tries to shake his head weakly, but it doesn't work. The Woods take no notice, and reality starts to melt around him. The leaves begin to disappear, and he rolls to his side, grass beneath his head.

It's soft, like a pillow, and despite his desperate attempts to keep himself awake, he feels his eyes begin to close. The trees above him are gone, replaced with a blue sky and a cool breeze. He's not in The Woods anymore. He's somewhere completely different, somewhere colder and windier and  _strange._

He wants to go home. Can no one see that? He just wants to go  _home._

With the last of his energy, he manages to raise his head. Just enough to get it off the grass and try and work out where he is. It makes his mind spin, his vision blurring with dancing black spots. The bile bubbles up in his throat, but he swallows it down, and before he blacks out, he can just about make out where he is.

The In-Between.

It has to be, this place isn't Earth for sure, and it doesn't fit the description of Eden. He's in The In-Between, which-  _that's where Chan is._ There doesn't seem to be anyone around, which is a slight relief because it would be kind of embarrassing for Chan to see him for the first time in weeks and he's unconscious in a field looking like shit.

But then again, maybe it would be nice for someone to get him off the ground. It's a strange feeling, since he's not fully on the grass, and he doesn't particularly enjoy it. There's a bad feeling in his gut, even if this is the calmest he's felt for years. Maybe it's something telling him he shouldn't be here, but that's nothing new. And besides, the last view he'd had before he blacked out wasn't especially bad, just... strange.

He's lying in the middle of the field, right where he woke up.

Curled into himself, in the centre of a large circular mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mayhaps i felt like jeongin needed a bit more attention and gave him a solo chapter


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the questionable quality of this chapter because i wrote it all on my phone
> 
> tw for mentions of blood and stuff

 

 

** THE IN-BETWEEN **

 

If Hyunjin's hands weren't weighed down by Seungmin's body, he's sure they would be shaking. In fact, it's a miracle that the movement of the rest of his body hasn't spiralled out of control yet, considering how frozen his mind is. He's surprised he's still able to keep moving, but then he remembers what he's here for. The only thing keeping him together is Seungmin.

He has to save Seungmin.

He  _has_ to.

Hyunjin pulls his body closer to him, cradling him in his arms. Even as he sees his fingers leaving fresh bruises on the pink skin of Seungmin's shoulders, he can't bring himself to let go. There's something in his mind that refuses to loosen his grip even slightly. A mental block that warns him if he lets go of Seungmin for even a second, he'll disappear.

They'd be separated again, when Seungmin's too weak to protect himself, and Hyunjin doesn't know if his mental state can deal with losing him again. Keeping him this close is Hyunjin's way of coping. In the strange logic of his mind, he knows that if he tears his eyes away from Seungmin, anything could happen.

Jisung could come back. Intent on finishing what he started, with eyes burning red and blood on his hands. No longer the boy they once knew. He'd been consumed by a fire eating him away inside, and if he'd done this to Seungmin,  _what would he do to Hyunjin?_

This method of travelling between realities was dangerous- what if something went wrong? They'd already been suspended in this timeless space for what felt like hours, even if Hyunjin knew rationally it had only been a few seconds. Was this what was supposed to happen? Compared to the brief flash of light usually, he just had to trust Changbin that everything was alright.

Or-

Or Seungmin,  _who was already so weak and so fragile,_ might not make it. His skin is raw, his heartbeat barely there, his legs and his eye- Every inch of life that had ever make him  _glow_ is dripping down Hyunjin's arms. And all the while, hems helpless to save him, condemned to simply watching as the boy he loves crumbles to dust.

Just like that, he could be taken from Hyunjin again.

Seungmin is still warm, and his heartbeat is still there no matter how weak it is, but that could change at any moment. He hasn't moved. He hasn't shown any signs of waking up. He isn't okay yet, and his condition is only getting worse. Hyunjin pulls him closer again, their chests flush against each other. He can feel his warmth through their shirts, pressing his fingernails deep into his skin to get any kind of reaction at all.

"Hyunjin!"

Felix's voice makes him look up. It startles him out of whatever spiral he'd been stuck in, breaking him out of his thoughts. There's wind on his hair now, the sun peeking out of the clouds and warming his skin. It's overwhelming, his body going haywire with oversensitivity. It's too bright, and yet it forces him to take in the change in his surroundings.

They're here.

The void they'd been suspended in is gone, replaced by the green fields of The In-Between-  _how long have they been here?_ How long has he been staring into space, wasting precious seconds that could  _cost Seungmin his life?_ The water from his hair runs down his neck, bleeding into his shirt. It's so cold,  _everything is so cold, he's freezing slowly, going so numb._

The world seems to spin. His head is so full, Seungmin so heavy in his arms. There's a buzzing noise that's slowly getting louder, his body slowly becoming overrun with pins and needles. It's cold. Despite all his efforts, his grip around Seungmin loosens, the fields in front of him fading in and out.

_ " _ Hyunjin!" Felix calls again, and there's movement behind him. His voice is muffled, drowned out beneath the buzzing in his ears. He says something else after, tone laced with panic and concern, but Hyunjin can't make the syllables out anymore. The world swirls around one last time, as his legs give out beneath him.

There are arms on his own, trying to take Seungmin away from him, and he murmurs through the fog. They're not taking Seungmin, not now, not after all he's been through, not when he so desperately needs medical attention. He shakes his head desperately, clutching the unconscious body even closer to his chest.

"Hyunjin," says a voice, low in his ear and only just managing to get through the buzzing. "Let go. He's okay now, you have to let go." It's Felix, Hyunjin realises, but his tone is so distorted that it's almost unrecognisable. He shakes his head- or at least he tries to. What actually happens is that his arms are too weak, his body unresponsive. Even as he tries to keep Seungmin close to him, there are hands on his arms pulling them apart, and he can't do anything about it.

Chan, he realises when he sees the boy's curly blonde hair, forces him down. His hands are firm around his waist, as if he knew that Hyunjin was just going to try and get up again. He applies pressure to his sides in a way that lessens the tension from his bones immediately, and reassures him with a tone that has Hyunjin wondering when he's done this before.

"Seungmin-" Hyunjin chokes out, but his tongue feels like lead in his mouth and his arms won't move. His speech is slurred, and even from his panicked mindset, he can tell he's shaking. Seungmin-  _what's happening to Seungmin?_

"It's okay," says Chan, even if it very clearly isn't okay. "Breathe. Hyunjin, you've got to breathe. You can't help Seungmin if you're hyperventilating. You need to breathe."

Help Seungmin.

He needs to help Seungmin- he needs to breathe, but oh god, Seungmin's legs and his cheek and his eye-

"Breathe." Chan repeats, and despite all odds, something in Hyunjin's mind decides to listen. His chest stops contacting quite so rapidly. The older boy threads his fingers through his hair, in a gesture that's rather strange considering how long they've known each other, but calms him down nonetheless.

Seungmin. If he thinks of Seungmin, he can breathe. Just focus on the rise and fall of Seungmin's chest, and then of your own. Breathe.

The ringing in his ears fades away. Slowly, he regains the use of his limbs, the black spots in his vision disappearing to nothing. Chan doesn't stop moving his hand even when Hyunjin has fully calmed down. There's a kindness behind his actions- and if Hyunjin had been questioning whether he'd done this before earlier, he's certain now.

He's about to ask why, leaning back into Chan's chest, but then his mind kicks him with a jumpstart and the feeling of bliss is yanked away. Seungmin-

Seungmin is surrounded by Changbin and Felix. They've cut off the burnt scraps of trousers from around his legs, but that's only revealed what Hyunjin hadn't wanted to look at before. His skin is pale and clammy, a sheen of sweat making him glisten in the pale light of The In-Between. There's no telling whether the hair plastered to his forehead is from rain or sweat.

Hyunjin knows Felix is going to speak before he actually does. When he opens his mouth, his voice is even deeper than usual. There's a mix of emotions there that Hyunjin can't identify, but none of them are good. "What happened?"

What had happened?

He doesn't know really, he wasn’t there. He simply arrived just as the fire was burning itself out, left to put the pieces together. Just like Hyunjin, Felix must know there's only one person who could have done this. Just like Hyunjin, Felix doesn't want to believe it.

"Jisung."

Chan's fingers freeze. The gap in his actions makes Hyunjin's limbs tense up with the same determination they'd had when he'd entered The In-Between. He flies across the grass towards Seungmin's body, joining Changbin and Felix. Not for a second does he wonder why Chan had reacted the way he did.

Felix does, though. Or perhaps he just notices the way Changbin tenses up identically beside him. "What is it?"

Changbin makes eye contact with Chan, unspoken words passing between them. The only sound is the water from Hyunjin's hair dripping onto the ground. Seungmin's chest rises and falls without any noise, and everyone else is silent, waiting for Changbin to reply.

"The bond-" he says, looking at Chan to confirm, and when the older boy nods, he continues, "The bond is complete."

Nothing about that can be good, Hyunjin knows that much. Felix frowns, as if the words are entering his mind a few seconds later than for everyone else. "What?"

"We'd thought it was Jisung- - I mean, why wouldn't it be? - but if you're saying that he's done this to Seungmin, then..." Changbin trails off. For the first time since Hyunjin's known the older boy, he looks confused. There's a small part of him that takes enjoyment in this, knowing Seungmin would barely be able to suppress his grin, but the sight of his body on the floor brings him back to reality.

"Is there any way this wasn't Jisung?" Asks Chan, and everyone hears the unspoken 'please' at the end of his words.

There isn't.

As much as Hyunjin wants to believe Jisung hadn't started the fire-  _as much as he wants to believe he hadn't caused Jisung to start the fire-_ there's no other explanation that makes sense. It had started in Jisung's room. Seungmin had been going to see Jisung. Jisung had been the only other person in Eden.

His name echoes through Hyunjin's head like a record stuck on repeat.

"It was him. Trust me." Only Jisung was that angry. It had only been Jisung who'd they'd left out, to the point where his rage consumed him. Jisung was the one behind the burns on Seungmin's body, the reason why Seungmin's chest stutters and starts, and yet Hyunjin can't find it in him to blame him.

Seungmin's chest stutters again, except this time it doesn't start.

"Then who?" asks Chan in the background, but his voice is too far away considering he's so close, "Why? Where's he gone if it's not-"

Maybe the questions are directed at Hyunjin, but he doesn't care. Seungmin- Seungmin's getting worse by the second. His heartbeat is so faint, barely there beneath his t-shirt. The fact that he's soaking wet can't be doing any good, and Hyunjin can't even stomach looking at his burns.

Everyone else seems so far away. The sound of their voices pulses in and out with the rush of blood to his head, making him feel even more ill. Oh god, Seungmin. He's so weak, and even though Hyunjin is sure he's fighting like hell inside, he doesn't know if that's going to be enough.

"Tell me how to save him."

His words cut through Chan's endless list of questions. A silence falls over the field, keeping hearts in throats as no obvious solution appears. Hyunjin is cold. Ice-like fury seeping from his fingers and soothing the bubbling skin on Seungmin's cheek. No one dares to tell him all hope is lost.

" _Tell me."_

"There's," starts Changbin, biting his lip, "One way. He- There might be only one thing powerful enough to save him." He looks smaller than before, shrinking into himself. Vulnerable, perhaps, even with his eye still faintly glowing.

" _Might_?" says Hyunjin. 'Might' isn't enough. No, Seungmin has to be saved, he  _has_ to be.

Chan frowns. "You don't mean-"

"The Woods."

If it was quiet when Hyunjin had spoken before, Changbin's words are met with a silence so still it's unnatural. The Woods are- well, from what Hyunjin knows - powerful. He knows they created Changbin and Chan, that it's one of the two original mirror worlds from Changbin's explanation of the split.

He also knows they aren't kind.

But he doesn't have any other choice.

"Take me there."

 

 

** THE WOODS **

 

Hyunjin steps out into a forest glade, and lays Seungmin on the ground.

His body rests gently down onto the leaves, his head cushioned by Hyunjin's hand. His forehead twitches, the smallest indication if the pain he's in, but every other part of his body lies limp. Even the shallow movements of his chest are barely noticeable. Each breath he takes rings like the ticking of a clock in Hyunjin's mind, a constant reminder of the time that's running out.

Hyunjin's own head is bowed to the grassy floor in a twisted sign of respect, stooped so low that his hair brushes the leaves beneath him. The tears gathering in his eyes drip down onto them. His breath catches in his lungs, his mind too afraid to even let him breath properly. One hand grips Seungmin's palm, his thumb pressed to his pulse.

It's cold here.

Even if the temperature is the same as The In-Between, even if the howling wind is nothing compared to the freezing rain in Eden, goose bumps erupt on his skin. His clothes are still soaked, and the chill of the breeze cuts through the layers effortlessly. The ice in his bones that was just beginning to melt hardens instantly.

The trunks of the trees loom over him menacingly. Their branches shake in the wind, the leaves rustling louder and louder. He can't shake the feeling of eyes watching him, even with his eyes squeezed shut.

_ Why are you here. _

It's not a question- it's far too direct for that- and Hyunjin can't stop himself from flinching. He squeezes Seungmin's hand, reminding himself why he's here.

He owes this much to him.

For every day he let Seungmin trail after him, eyes wide with a puppy-dog grin, endlessly oblivious to Hyunjin playing his heart like one of his beloved cassettes. Every selfish time Hyunjin pulled away, hid himself in the smallest places simply so they didn't have to talk. He'd put the younger boy through so much, so caught up in his own self-obsession that he never thought to spare a thought for anyone else's feelings.

He owes more than this to him.

"Please," he says, and his voice chokes up in his throat. There's a lump there that he can't swallow. "Please save him."

The leaves rustle. They're discussing amongst themselves what to do, Hyunjin knows that much, like he's nothing more than a character behind a screen. They're too calm, too distant, and in every second that passes they remind him more and more of himself. Eventually, they must come to a conclusion, because the same faceless voice rings out through the clearing.

_ Nothing that passes through comes out the same,  _ the leaves murmur, softer this time.  _But you already know that, don't you Hyunjin?_

Hyunjin doesn't question how The Woods knows his name. From what Chan and Changbin had told him, The Woods knew everything. It had eyes everywhere, it's touch lingering at the edge of every reality, waiting and watching for a chance to step in.

"I do," he admits. There's a strange feeling bubbling up in his gut, an explosive mixture of shame and- he shakes it off. There's no room for shame here. Whatever The Woods is doing, it's messing with his mind, toying with his emotions and making him think things that aren't true. There's nothing shameful about what he's doing for Seungmin, the boy with the stuttering heartbeat. "But he's going to die if I don't do anything. Please,  _please_ save him."

_ Do you play a part in this world? _

"What?"

_ Are you of value? _

"I-" he has no idea, truthfully. A part to play? Value? All these words are being thrown around like they mean nothing, when Seungmin is bleeding out on the forest floor in front of him. "I don't know- please, all I want is for you to save him. I'll do anything- give anything, just save hi-"

The wind picks up. A stray leaf covers Seungmin's cheek, the barest stroke of the skin there. It flutters over the burnt skin by his eye, and a mirror image of it ghosts across Hyunjin's own palm. It leaves a strange feeling of nausea behind, and when The Woods speak again, the sound makes Hyunjin's head ring with an intensity he's never felt before.

_ You've been here since the fracture,  _ the leaves hum in thought,  _he must have had a plan for you._

"He?" chokes out Hyunjin. He's not here to find out about the creation of the universe- he's here for Seungmin. Every second The Woods spends deep in thought is another that Seungmin's heart gets weaker. There's no time to waste, and yet in this forest grove, it's almost like the addition of time was an afterthought.

_ You're players,  _ say the leaves, ignoring Hyunjin,  _in the game this world is becoming. More important than you might seem at first, since you were obviously created for a certain role._ There's a brief pause, and despite The Woods' lack of eyes, Hyunjin can clearly feel it look him up and down, sizing him up as if he were nothing more than a piece of meat.  _A pawn, maybe. A catalyst for something much more important._

"I don't- I just want to save him." He tilts his head downwards again, focusing on Seungmin's still body. Reminding himself why he's here, why he's letting some sentient trees terrorise him into submission. " _Please."_

_ Stand back. _

He scrambles away from Seungmin as fast as he can. There's always the possibility that The Woods could change its mind, so as much as it pains him with every inch he gets further away, he repeats his promise in his head over and over again. His palm catches on a particularly sharp rock, tearing easily into the soft skin, and his back crashes up against the trunk of a large tree. He cradles his arm to his chest as he watches, heart beating wildly.

Every bone in his body screams at him to run. They urge him to pull Seungmin close and never let him go again, because his mind is on fire with suspicion and mistrust. He's gotten this close, taken Seungmin this far, and yet he can't shake off the impression that The Woods would betray him without a second thought. He fights the feeling, swallowing it down to his icy soul and trying to ignore it.

This- this is for Seungmin.

His injuries are too severe for anywhere else, he'd die if Hyunjin hadn't taken him here. This is what he would want, right?

There are just too many decisions.

Why can't things just go back to the way they were before? Everything is so complicated, his heart is being pulled to pieces, Jisung is missing and Seungmin is half-dead. Why- why did things have to change? Wasn't everything fine the way it was?

Why did Jisung have to be so angry, have to snap right at the second Seungmin was there? Why did Felix choose to go through a personality change now of all times? Why did Seungmin finally work out he didn't have to trail after Hyunjin, just as Hyunjin could have protected him?

Why did they have to change?

And yet, at the same moment he thinks that, he realises that he's changed as well. He is not the same boy he was when he first left Eden. He's quieter, less afraid, and-

He's determined to see the world out of more than his own eyes.

Everything could have been prevented if he hadn't been so selfish, and that was the wake-up call he had needed. Even halfway through his own thoughts, he manages to catch himself slipping into his old self-absorbed mindset.

He can't blame other people anymore.

He refuses to. Not when he's seen how much he hurt everyone. Seungmin, Jisung, Felix, they can't be blamed for changing with the way he treated them, with how much pain he caused without ever looking behind him.

He squeezes the cut on the palm, desperate for the pain to bring him back to reality. There's no time for moping or wishing he could change the past. He can only have an effect on what's happening now.

And that's Seungmin, who's turning to metal in front of his very eyes.

The red burns on his legs seem to sizzle, a sickening noise that makes Hyunjin want to throw up, but between the pale steam something is happening. Where the skin had once been unrecognisable, the colour is slowly lightening. The angry scars melt away into the breeze, slowly becoming soft and smooth.

The leaf on his cheek is caught by the wind, and the puckered skin it reveals there makes Hyunjin flinch. There's so much red, so much pain- and yet even in the few seconds that have passed, the burnt body in front of him is slowly beginning to look like Seungmin again.

Something in his face, swollen and unrecognisable,  _glows._ The red that had stained his cheek melts away, and where his eye had been a mess of dried blood and burns has completely changed. His face is just as it had once been, but his eye-

His eye is soft pink.

Glowing faintly as the last of the swelling cools down. It lights up his skin, illuminating every reconstructed feature and bathing him with the soft light. There's something undeniably metallic about the glow, but it's soft and tender, and Hyunjin would recognise it as Seungmin anywhere. It fades away as his eye falls shut again, the quiet stirring of healing almost finished.

He's okay. Hyunjin almost pulls himself up off the ground, his bleeding palm still clutched to his chest. Seungmin is fine- he's okay, he's not going to die anymore. But his legs are rooted to the ground, the branches of the tree pressed to his back tying him helpless to the floor.

It's not over yet.

The welts marring his skin have gone-  _disappeared before his very eyes-_ but now a strange metal sheen covers the skin there. There's a heat in the air that fights past the wind, the smell of copper hanging heavy around their heads. The wind picks up. Seungmin's body hardens and shines in the dappled light, moving beyond human and into something... else.

"What are you doing?" says Hyunjin, but his voice chokes up in his throat and he has to splutter past the tightening vines around his wrists to speak again, louder this time. "What are you doing?"

The wind hisses with the laughter of a thousand leaves.  _Did you not heed the warning, child? Nothing that enters these woods comes out the same._

"You- you said you'd save him!"

_ Is he not saved? _

Hyunjin looks at Seungmin's still body. He thinks about the horrific burns that had littered his legs, the faintly glowing eye. Yes, he's not about to die anymore, but he's now made of metal. There's something in The Woods' tone that tells Hyunjin there's more he doesn't know.

Seungmin has been changed.

"But-"

But what? He can't think of anything to say that would make a valid point. The Woods kept their end of the deal, no matter how twisted it was. There was a promise between them, and now Hyunjin is wishing he'd shaped his words more clearly, because Seungmin is paying the price. "What about me?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wants to cry.

He'd  _just_ told himself he was going to be less selfish, and yet here he is five seconds later, with an interest no larger than himself. What's wrong with him? Even with Seungmin unconscious in front of him, he immediately goes back to self-obsession.

_ You?  _ The leaves rustle again, the breeze even stronger this time. Hyunjin can't shake off the feeling that he's being laughed at.  _Is this sacrifice not enough?_

"Sacrifice?"

_ The cost of saving a life. You have both paid a price in different ways, child, you do not leave these woods the same person you came in. Your friend has paid his dues in forgetting, just as you shall pay yours by remembering. _

Before Hyunjin can ask what any of that means, the branches around his ankles loosen. The bark of the tree behind him stops pulling him backwards. The air to his side shimmers in a way seems so familiar. It's how they'd entered, how Chan and Changbin had pulled a doorway in reality for them, and yet this portal is different. The gleam of the world behind it is harsh, the colours too bright, dangerously raw and exposed. This is the doing of The Woods.

_ Your friend cannot survive here. _

They wang him to ask. They're enjoying his confusion, the way he falls right into their traps. As much as he hates being played, there's no other way. He's a string puppet with leaves as a master, dancing ever more dangerously towards the darkness. But he has to ask. "What do you mean?"

_ He has changed beyond this world. He is no longer the same person he was when he entered, and a new entity cannot simply enter any point in the timeline. _

There's a pause as Hyunjin tries to take in what that means, but even in the few seconds it takes him to decipher the meaning, The Woods gets bored.  _In simpler terms, to live he must start from the beginning. The first few seconds after the mirror worlds split, somewhere where he won't ever cross with his former self._

"Wha-" Hyunjin's mind races. Even without the plants tying him down, he can't move. "Earth?"

The leaves hum in appreciation.  _Perhaps you are sharper than we give you credit for. Earth, from the very start of the timeline. A new beginning in the very first new beginning, as it seems._

_ ' _ You shall pay yours by remembering'. That's what The Woods had said. The price he'd pay for entering this clearing, for asking to save Seungmin's life. Everything was slowly becoming clearer, the meaning behind the sharp words suddenly making sense.

"I can't go with him, can I."

The price of the new metallic Seungmin - the  _android -_ took more from him than just his humanity. A new start in a new world would mean nothing if he still longed to get back to Hyunjin. All the work The Woods had put into saving his life would be useless if he simply remembered how to return to The In-Between.

So they'd taken his memories.

_ From the start of the timeline, it shall be if he was simply created then. There can be no presence of his old life. _

This- this isn't right. This isn't  _fair,_ and yet at the same time Hyunjin knows it's both of those things. He'd held Seungmin close one last time, saved his life and finally let himself hope again, only to have him snatched away. Along with any hope Hyunjin had of being happy, Seungmin was just out of reach. "What happens if I do meet him again?"

The wind stops. Just like that, the clearing falls silent. In the absence of the breeze, Hyunjin can feel the pressure of the leaves up against his skin, squeezing his lungs tight, the danger so much more potent here.

_ You won't _ .

But he could- the option is still there, once he gets back to his own time, he could explain everything to Changbin and Chan, and try and find Seungmin aga-

_ We are a powerful enemy to make, Hwang Hyunjin. _

The rest of the threat hangs heavy in the air. There's no need to finish, because the leaves know Hyunjin has gotten the message. They can feel the way his heart stops, just for a second, as they let just the smallest slither of fear consume his body. It's just a taste of what could happen, the faintest warning of their true power.

_ Go,  _ say the leaves, and they propel him towards Seungmin. Watching as he cradles the unconscious boy in his arms, laughing as the tears from his eyes burn his skin. The shimmering air swallows them, and the breeze begins to pick up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was (again) supposed to have a second half (which i've actually written!! to come out later this week!! im prepared!!) but it was too long so it kind of ends at a weird point
> 
> just imagine it's better okay


	19. Chapter 19

 

 

**EARTH**

 

It's just as hot as always, the one constant throughout all of their visits to Earth. Even as he steps out of the portal into the same dusty side-path as always, the shade of the trees doesn't quite stop the sun from beating down on his skin. The leaves don't provide much protection to the sticky air surrounding them, and the humidity coats his skin.

Seungmin is still heavy in Hyunjin's arms.

Around them, the leaves flutter. It's a stark reminder of the deal he made with The Woods, his promise endlessly ringing in his mind. It was the only way.  _It was the only way, wasn't it?_

Seungmin's safe. He's safe, at least for now, and that's all Hyunjin really wants to know. The sun casts long shadows onto the ground, paining dark streaks against the ash on Seungmin's cheeks, but even in the fading light of Earth's afternoon, Hyunjin can see the colour beginning to return to his skin.

For the first time, Seungmin stirs in his arms.

It's such a small movement. Nothing more than his eyelids fluttering as he shifts in his sleep, his mouth falling slightly open as he turns, but Hyunjin can't help the sob that bursts from his lips. He's going to be okay.  _He's going to be okay._

From his burnt skin turning to flesh-coloured metal, the slightest opening of his eyes revealing his iris glowing soft pink, this is the first time Hyunjin allows himself to believe that he's truly going to be okay.

He moved.

The Woods didn't lie. Here- here he can recover. He can live without the pain as the world begins around him, a fresh start that doesn't have to end in disaster. A hole in his heart where Hyunjin used to be, but that can be filled with friends  _that won't hurt him._

The heat of Earth dries the tears off Hyunjin's cheeks before they have time to properly fall. It leaves his eyes red and cheeks pink, his chest contracting as he desperately tries not to disturb Seungmin any more. His fingers shake as he brings him closer one last time. Around them, the shade from the trees shelters them from the sun, but Hyunjin's skin still burns where it brushes against the boy in his arms.

Every one of his cells alight, as he lays Seungmin onto the ground.

One of his hands goes behind his head, running his fingers through his hair one last time. His palms cradles his head, thumb going out to brush the last remaining ash from his cheek, softly letting him to the ground. Seungmin's arm twitches, and Hyunjin rolls him just off the side of the dirt path.

There's no sun here, just the shade and trees bowing their heads around them. Dark green against the blue of the sky, cloudless mirroring the pale yellow of the dusty path. A few bushes line the track, but none are close enough to get in the way.

It's just them, and the world.

Hyunjin and Seungmin, and every atom of reality in-between.

Hyunjin sobs again, the mess of emotions rising up inside him so tangled that he can't even work out just quite what he's feeling. His chest aches, more than just from the pain of losing Seungmin. Being here is slowly killing him. His body is slowly being set alight, so anxious to return him to his rightful time that it's willing to tear him apart to do so. His lungs burn, his fingers spasm, but he can't pull his eyes from Seungmin.

This is the last time they'll meet.

Hyunjin knows he can't return, that doing so would be crossing The Woods. There are unimaginable consequences- if not for him, then for Seungmin.

He won't remember him, nothing more than a shell of the memories he once had, but Hyunjin allows himself to hope. That- maybe he'll miss the sensation of loving as much as being loved, even if the hole in his heart will heal over time. Maybe he'll find a new object of admiration, someone else to trail after, and maybe they won't just let him.

God, he can't think about it.

It hurts too much. He should leave now, whilst the thought of leaving Seungmin behind hasn't quite sunk in. Once it finally hits him- when the numbness is finally overcome with grief- he won't be able to leave. He has to do it now, or he never will.

He stands up, brushing the dust off of his trousers. The fabric is still damp from the rain, so the mud ends up smearing down his legs, staining his hands. He goes to try and wipe it off on his arms, but the heat of the sun dries it before he can even move. It cracks into spiderweb shards, coating the dried blood on his palm until they're one and the same.

It  _hurts_.

His hands hurt, his heart hurts, leaving Seungmin hurts, telling himself not to think about it hurts, and yet he still forces himself to take a step backwards. Despite the heat of the day, he's so, so cold without Seungmin. Every step he get further away fills his blood with ice. His hair freezes to his forehead, his fingers frostbitten by his sides.  _It hurts._

His foot connects with something, filling the air with a sickening crack. He spins round, heart beating wildly with desperation, only to see the charred case of the cassette beneath his shoe.

He kicks it.

All the frustration, all the pain and the anger that's just beginning to set in, makes him lash out. For a second, his mind is nothing more than white-hot fury.

It's all the cassettes fault. None of this would have happened if he'd never seen the stupid cassette. If- if he  _hadn't bought the cassette Seungmin never would have tried to give it to Jisung._ The fire never would have happened. He wouldn't be here, Seungmin would be safe-  _they'd be happy, wouldn't they?_

His foot sends the cassette flying across the path. It lands hard on the other side, the case already melted from the fire and now cracking even further due to the force. It bounces once, before flying into the bushes. The leaves cover it from sight, and Hyunjin couldn't be more glad.

He never wants to see the obnoxious case again.

The anger seeps out of him, now he's directed it at something. It leaves the rest of his body empty, numb to Seungmin but vulnerable to the pain in his lungs. His sobs have long since turned into gasps for breath, coating his lips with red liquid as he chokes on air.

He can't stay.

He can't see Seungmin again.

The younger boy stirs and Hyunjin's heart leaps at the chance of looking him in the eyes one last time,  _but he can't even say goodbye because without knowing it, he's stepped backwards into the portal._

The world around him begins to ebb away, taking most of the pain from his lungs with it. He drinks in the sight of Seungmin as if it's the last thing he'll ever see, letting him burn himself into the back of his eyelids. Ever delicate feature of his face remains printed there, Hyunjin so determined not to forget this moment.

Except he doesn't disappear.

Not straight away, anyway. Even though he can feel his body leaving Earth, he can still see Seungmin in front of him. It's like he's trapped between the layers of reality, suspended here but not quite close enough for Seungmin to see him.

"Seungmin?" Calls a voice. Not one Hyunjin recognises, but Seungmin stirs on the floor, trying to push himself up into a sitting position. He obviously recognises whoever's calling him, and that hurts more than Hyunjin would like to admit.

He doesn't want to see this.

He doesn't want to be here, stuck hanging in the portal, condemned to watching as the boy he loves forgets he ever existed. He doesn't want to put himself through this pain. Why can't he just disappear? Why does the universe want him to suffer? Hasn't he already been through enough?

"Seungmin?" Calls the voice again, and then a boy appears at the end of the path. He's young- younger than even Seungmin, but Hyunjin can't miss the way his eyes widen as he sees Seungmin on the floor. He rushes over, dropping a pair of beaten-up roller-skates in his hurry. "Seungmin? Did your batteries run out again?"

Seungmin doesn't reply, his eyelids fluttering as his mouth drops open. Roller-skate boy drops to his side, checking the side of his neck for something with the tips of his fingers. "What happened to you?" he says, frowning at Seungmin's muddy clothes. When it's clear he's not going to get a reply, he sighs. "Come on, lets get you to a charging station. Chan and Woojin are waiting for us at the park."

Seungmin stirs. His face is creased up, and his eyes keep slipping closed despite his obvious efforts to keep them open. His iris glows brighter, pink overpowering what Hyunjin could have kidded himself into thinking was peach. He looks to where Hyunjin is standing, almost as if he can see him.

"Seungmin!" Yells Hyunjin, even though he knows it's useless. "Seungmin!"

The boy crouches by him, trying to move Seungmin's chin to look him in the eyes, but the now-android fights back. His eyes stay locked on Hyunjin, squinting right through him with the confusion of someone who knows there's something he's forgotten.

Some _one_ he's forgotten.

He opens his mouth to speak, past the roller-skate boy and  _towards Hyunjin._

Hyunjin's heart leaps. He can imagine Seungmin's voice, one last time. Something to colour him with, everything just to hear him speak one last time. He doesn't even realise he's crying until the salty tears make their way into his mouth, clouding his desperate screams for Seungmin to notice him.

Except before a single syllable can leave Seungmin's mouth, there's a sickening tug at the base of his gut. Suddenly, the world around him disappears. When he collapses to his knees, hands empty and ears ringing, it's onto the grass of The In-Between.  
  


 

 

**THE WOODS**

 

Revenge is not as sweet as Jisung had imagined.

He's still red, but only just. It lingers on his fingers, stained on his palms in the orange rust from the gates. It blossoms in the colour of his skin, his arms not quite making it out from the fire unscathed. It settles with the ash in his hair, leaving long streaks down his cheeks.

For the most part, the red remains like the fire, left behind him. Better off forgotten, just like Seungmin's screams as he'd turned away. The fire raging inside him is satisfied for now, but there's a sooty aftertaste coating the inside of his mouth. The sour bite of forced ignorance is making it hard to swallow. In the corner of his eyes, the red lingers quiet, waiting for the right time to strike again.

Jisung is not red.

Instead, his soul is coloured with grey.

It's a cold indifference. The same colour as the very gates he'd pushed past, as the crumbling stone walls of Eden, as the smoke staining the sky behind him. He sees himself in the erupting clouds above his head, and when the rain begins to fall, it's grey instead of blue.

Yes, the anger of the red has faded, but it's left something just as dark behind.

The grey is numb. He thinks of how Seungmin screamed, and he feels nothing. It's still fire, but now it's white-hot. He's cooler, collected, and now that the red at the edge of his mind has gone, he can finally think.

He's not in Eden anymore.

The metal gates are long gone, just like the walls that had kept him grounded. They'd shied away from his touch as the rain began to fall, curling into themselves like his very touch was poison. He'd stepped through them and breathed in the smoky air. The smell of freedom mixed with the smell of burnt flesh.

And now, he's making his way through a forest.

The leaves rustle around him, whispering with the wind in their branches, but he only has to think about how annoying the sound is for them to stop. These parts of the woods are dead. There's no life amongst these trees, the blackened branches reaching out to him with twisted fingers.

Maybe it's stupid, but Jisung feels like there are eyes watching him. They bore holes into his back, but whatever owns them is too scared to come any closer. He clears the path in front of himself by simply being there.

They're scared.

Seungmin, the puppy-dog admirer, was scared of him. He'd finally got his head out of Hyunjin's ass to look at him properly, and when he had, his eyes had been full of fear as he screamed and screamed.

Felix, his only friend in the whole goddamn universe, would be scared of him. The only person who'd looked beyond the anger to see the hurt boy inside, would turn and run just like everyone else.

Hyunjin-

Wasn't this what he wanted?

Revenge, as red as the pain they'd caused him. He wanted them to bleed like he'd bled, to feel pain like the pain they'd caused him. Every time he'd been left out, every time they'd lied and laughed behind his back, wasn't that what he wanted them to feel?

Except now, Seungmin is-

Who is Jisung, really?

His tears mix with the raindrops, his bleeding heart stains his clothes alongside the streaks of ash. This- this isn't what he wanted. He can try and tell himself over and over again that it  _is,_ that this is  _everything he's dreamed about,_ but-

His true dreams were painted on the walls in a room that's been reduced to rubble.

What he really wanted was a friend.

But the red had clouded his mind, it had feasted on the fear and anger and pain until it controlled his body. Eden had been rotten, it had been red, and it had selected the most vulnerable of the four to use as a puppet. He'd been red, so red, and now he's left Eden, everything is... gone.

Now he's as grey as the sky, and as numb as the smoke behind him.

_Nothing that enters these woods comes out the same._

There's a voice in his mind, laughing as the wind begins to pick up around him. He doesn't push it away this time, now that his protective bubble of red has seeped away, he's empty and grey and vulnerable again. He doesn't wonder where the voice comes from; he's too tired. The tears that stained his cheeks dry, the numbness spreading until he can barely remember why he was sad.

_You left without the apple._

"I don't need an apple," says Jisung. He doesn't, he told himself he doesn't, and even if the red has mostly left his bones, the slightest simmer of resentment remains in his soul. "I came here on my own. I don't need an apple."

_Without an apple,_ the voice hums in thought,  _you're Eden's chess piece._

The grey ebbs like the tide. It washes across his mind in huge waves, and the voice speaking to him gets louder. It presses into his brain, digging fingernails into his skin. His breathing speeds up and slows down without him doing anything.

In the quietest corner of his mind, the one where the walls of his room still have all of their colours, he imagines another painting. He sees himself as a puppet, as his strings are passed from master to master.

"Eden is gone." Just like that, Jisung is back to the facade. Plastered over someone much more scared is endless confidence. Someone rude, someone bold, someone who doesn't need friends. "I burnt it to the ground."

_Eden has chosen you for anger._

It's almost like he isn't there. After all this time, after all he's gone through, he's- he's being ignored again. Even through his cloudy mind, through all the grey, there's a stabbing pain in his chest. It's as if a balloon has been punctured, bursting into  _red._

He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is red.

_Anger,_ says the voice,  _You'll make a good player._

Jisung can taste fruit in his mouth. He chokes on the sweet taste for a second, the honeyed juice of apple hitting the back of throat. Then it morphs to something darker, juice staining his lips and dribbling down his chin. He takes a moment to place it as plum, before it's down his throat and the sickly smell is all he can breathe.

The red mixes with the grey. For all Jisung was, for all he could have been, is grey. He's washed out like the paintings on his walls, the last remaining colours all blended into one brilliant grey.

This forest, the lingering touch of Eden, is red.

The taste of the plum gets sweeter. He can't move, can't breathe, and all the while, the grey is being drowned out by the red. The simmer of rage bursts into flames, the guttural scream of revenge stings his throat. It grabs hold of him and  _twists,_ until there's no trace that Han Jisung was ever grey at all.

_A mirror requires balance,_ says the voice- The Woods, he knows now.  _Even the slightest inequality could cause the unification to fail. There cannot be any loose ends._

There's a pause. The rain has stopped, Jisung realises, and the ground beneath him is dry. How long was he walking? When did he get here? His mind fights against the claws around his soul, painting the world in a blurry haze. He's so light that he's barely there, so close to falling asleep that he doesn't even think to consider why he's so red.

"What do you want me to do?" He's red, so red, and there's a thirst for blood deep inside of him. A craving for pain, Seungmin's echoing screams so sweet.

_There cannot be any loose ends,_ The Woods repeats,  _There cannot be any inequalities. The Earth was promised a life today, Jisung._

He knows what they're going to ask, and he smiles. Revenge is just as sweet as Jisung imagines, and he's already moving towards the portal to Earth when he receives the instructions.

_We need you to kill Hwang Hyunjin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just gonna fight the woods, punch a tree whatever
> 
> thanks for 3000 hits!! :D


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

**EARTH**

 

The tabby wraps itself around Minho's legs, purring softly. He freezes, not wanting to bend down and scare it away, but equally unable to resist the soft fur. It shouldn't be  _that_  big of a deal, but this particular cat has been avoiding him for months. Maybe it's fate that this is first time he's left his house since seeing Seungmin and the kid sending him death threats at the shop.

That had been strange.

Not only had Seungmin seemed confused when Minho had sprinted away, but now that the whole ordeal was over, he could actually think about what had happened.

The kid- the freckled one with the bracelets- had seemed to go through at least three personalities in the short time Minho was there. His friend almost hadn't known how to speak to him, and when Minho thought about it, he didn't recognise either of them. That shouldn't have been strange. He was more often absent from school than not, and a couple of transfer students weren't that big of a deal.

Except, Seungmin had known them.

They hadn't looked like the type to loiter outside shitty convenience stores (even if they were sending him death threats, so maybe he had to rethink that point), so they had to be waiting for him. The shop was always empty. There hadn't been anyone else in there, he was sure of it, so why was Seungmin-

In fact, Seungmin had even been buying them drinks!

Like they'd been best buddies forever, Mr. No-Minho,-I'm-Not-Buying-You-Another-Milkshake-Because-Chan-Said-You-Were-Going-To-Get-Cavities-If-You-Have-Any-More,-And-I-Take-Everything-Literallywas actually spending money on something that wasn't just another cassette! He'd never seen Seungmin buying anything else before.

And if that wasn't strange enough, how did Seungmin even know the two boys in the first place? It would be less of a surprise if Jeongin was there, since the younger boy had no trouble going out with his other friends, but there had been no sign of him. That was strange in itself, since the two boys were barely ever seen apart, and Seungmin was almost as socially awkward as Minho. They couldn't be his friends, simply because he didn't have any of his own.

What was he doing there alone?

There's only one way to find out. If he just went and asked... He wouldn't even have to go that far, since they made a point of loitering outside his house every day. Jeongin would probably happy to answer anything he asked, since at least he would be outside and talking to them, and-

Ha.

Maybe he should save that train of thought for April Fool's day.

Who is he kidding? He can't just go up and talk to them, not after skipping this much school, and being happy about Cha- No, even now, the only reason that he's not still holed up in his room is because Jeongin hadn't turned up. After Minho had determined the younger boy wasn't just hiding in a bush or something (seriously, he wouldn't put that past him), he'd sprinted all the way to the nearest shop to buy a bag of cat food before Doongie clawed his face off.

The bag, which is currently in his hand, and brings him right back to the reason why the tabby is winding itself through his ankles.

Fuck thinking about the suspicious freckled kid, Minho just wants to concentrate on the cat.

He stares at the cat.

The cat stares back at him.

There's no questioning why it's here. This cat had avoided him for so long, it's obviously smart, and though Minho would like to believe that he's suddenly become some kind of cat-whisperer overnight, it just wants food. Very specifically, the bag of cat food in Minho's hand.

"I'm not giving you any food," he says. The food is for Soonie, Doongie and Dori, and them alone. As much as he feels sorry for this stray, he can't afford to feed every cat out on the streets.

The cat stares back at him.

Fuck.

"Okay, maybe I am giving you some food."

Very slowly, he steps backwards. The very tips of his fingers brush against the cat's coat, and he winces at how hot the animal must be. It's too skinny to be heathy anyway, and this suffocating heat can't be doing any good with a fur coat. He's drenched in sweat himself, and that's just wearing a thin t-shirt.

There's an alleyway just behind him, so he shuffles backwards through the overgrown bushes and into the shade. The bag drags along the floor in front of him, and the cat follows, mewing pitifully once they're covered by the trees.

It paws at his laces, staring at him with big eyes.

With one paw still attached to his right trainer, it sticks it's tongue out at him. Minho sticks his tongue back out, already reaching down to open the bag, and when he rips the seam, the look he gets is  _so adorable-_

Yeah, there's no way he's not feeding the tabby.

Or at least, that's what he thinks. Before he can actually reach in and scatter some of the pieces onto the path in front of him, there's a flash of light. It blinds him momentarily even though it came from behind him, and he spins round. There's no grace in the action (thankfully no one else saw, he's got a reputation as a dancer to uphold even if he hasn't attended dance class in months, and he'd never live this down), so he ends up sprawled onto the floor.

The tabby screeches as he narrowly avoids squashing it, and legs it into the bushes. The bag of food falls open to his side, spilling its content onto the ground, and his heart is beating at double the normal pace.

There's a boy.

And maybe Minho should re-evaluate his priorities, because his first thought is not 'oh no, a very angry boy has just  _appeared from nowhere_ in front of me. He's also slightly covered in blood, so maybe I should be running very quickly in the other direction', but instead 'oh shit he's cute'.

He's got soft brown hair that falls into his eyes, his puffy cheeks making him seem cute even if he's got murder in his eyes. His clothes are soaked through and there's mud streaked down his trousers, even though there hasn't been any rain for months. He shakes his head to try and get rid of some of the water, but is so disorientated from appearing out nowhere that he just kind of stumbles forwards.

More worryingly, that's definitely blood on his t-shirt. It doesn't look like he's bleeding, but his arms are pink in a way that can't be good, and Minho's not about to let cute boy bleed out.

"Are you okay?"

Cute boy looks up. "Who the fuck are you?"

Well, there goes his one attempt at socialisation for today. Time to crawl back to his home and hide under the sheets while he pretends this never happened.

Except, that's what he would have liked to happen. Instead, he gets cute boy walking towards him in a way that can only be described as threateningly. His hands are balled into fists, and despite how soft he had looked at first, Minho really does need to re-evaluate his priorities because he's at least 90% sure he's going to be murdered.

_Oh well,_ he thinks, mentally going over his will in his head, a _t least Chan and Woojin can't make me go to school if I'm dead._

"Why do you have one of Felix's bracelets?" Cute boy pulls him to his feet, grabbing Minho's wrist and staring at it like he's never seen a friendship bracelet before. All the intimidation from before kind of wears off once Minho realises just how short and skinny this kid is. He's also realised that he won't be able to see his cats again if he dies, so the fear has kind of morphed into him just being annoyed.

Plus, now he knows that Cute Boy is friends with the boys that had sent him death threats, he's kind of pissed off.

"Why do you know who death-threat freckles kid is?" He counters. He's pretty sure that Felix had been the kid's name anyway.

Cute Boy drops his wrist. The anger drops from his face for a second, replaced with confusion that disappears so quickly that Minho almost didn't catch it. Then the fury is back, his fingers are back to squeezing around his wrist, and there's fire in his eyes. "Where did you get this?"

Minho shrugs. "He left it outside my door with a note threatening me. Then he appeared with some lanky-ass kid a few days ago, but-"

He trails off. Cute Boy isn't listening, and his fingers are digging so hard into Minho's wrist that there are definitely going to be bruises. "Hyunjin," he hisses, and okay, maybe Minho should rethink that he's friends with freckles kid, but that was not a good reaction.

Which sort of makes something else click in his mind.

If this kid isn't friends with Felix and Hyunjin, but he knows about the bracelet... If he knows who they are, but didn't know that they sent him a death threat... Then there's a good chance that Cute Boy is-

" _Jisung?"_

Cute Boy- Jisung as Minho now knows (ha! Whoever said he wasn't observant can fuck off, because he deduced the  _shit_  out of this situation) is so startled that he drops Minho's wrist again and takes a step back.

"How do you know my name?"

Minho grins. Now, this is something he can deal with. Now that he's more certain he's not about to be murdered, maybe he can get some more information out of the boy. "Freckles boy – Felix, whatever – when he sent me the note, it told me to stay away from 'Han Jisung'. That's you, isn't it?"

Jisung goes through about fifteen emotions in two seconds. He glances behind him, as if he wants to check something, but there's nothing there. Minho squints, knowing his eyesight isn't the best, but all he can see is a dusty path with trees on either side. Maybe if he looks hard enough, he could convince himself that the air seems a bit more  _sparkly_ in places, but surely that's just a combination of the dust and the heat.

Finally, he speaks again. "Stay away?" The bracelet, the note, Jisung knows something that Minho doesn't. There's something else going on here, something that's bigger than the two of them, and Minho can't help but think he's going to end up being dragged into this mess.

_Or_ , he thinks as he sees Jisung screw his face up as the cat returns, obviously not enjoying the way it rubs against his legs but not moving away,  _maybe he'll walk into this mess willingly._

"That's what it said, it had my name and everything. 'Minho, stay away from Han Jisung'. But when I asked Felix, he said he hadn't sent it, so I don't know what that me-"

"It means Felix is a liar," says Jisung, so primly that the tone of his voice almost gives Minho whiplash. The angry boy from before is gone, and in his place is someone who's got a plan. There's a heart-shaped smile on his lips, and Minho's heart skips roughly 3.8 beats at once. "How would you like to find out what they really meant?"

Minho's brain short-circuits. Could... could this be successful social interaction? He's never been the best at working out what people meant, but it sounds an awful lot like Jisung wants him to join wherever he's going. Possibly to confront the people who threatened him, which also sounds rather satisfying.

There's a small problem that comes in the form of Jeongin and Seungmin, but he quickly realises that they wouldn't recognise Jisung. They also probably wouldn't be insane enough to talk to a boy who's covered in soot and ash, so he's actually  _safer_  sticking with him.

"Are you asking me to come with you?"

Jisung grins even wider. There's an uncontained joy in his eyes, something glimmering behind thousands of walls. He's protecting himself; anyone could see that with how cautious he's being, but there's a happiness there that can't be fakes. It's almost like he's never had anyone be nice to him before. "Do you want to?"

Maybe Minho imagines it, but the leaves on the trees around them seem to shift. Despite there being no breeze at all, he's certain he can see the branches wave, dancing in the air. There's a strange feeling in his chest, and he suddenly find that he wouldn't be able to say no even if he wanted to.

But he doesn't want to.

"Yes," he says, and when Jisung asks him to come with him, he ignores every warning siren going off in his head and follows.  
  


 

 

**EARTH**

 

Woojin feels bad. In fact, he feels bad that he feels bad, because it took him this long to realise what he had done.

He sees Jeongin's face as he'd yelled at him, and when he left the younger boy behind to take Seungmin to the nearest charging station, he'd even thought that he should have yelled some more. Jeongin didn't seem to care that Seungmin almost collapsed, he didn't seem fussed with the fact that Seungmin trusted him with his life, and Woojin was just too stressed to let any of that go.

Of course, now, he just feels bad.

It wasn't Jeongin's fault.

Even if he knew the signs better than anyone, Woojin couldn't blame him for not noticing. No matter how much it seemed that way, Seungmin was not Jeongin's responsibility. The younger boy doesn't need that weight on his shoulders, and even if Woojin's never been as close to him as Chan, he knows that there's a lot going on in his life.

He's just a child.

That's all it is really; he's a child with his own problems, and looking after his friends should not be one of his responsibilities. He's just as stressed as the rest of them, just as worried about Chan as Woojin, and all he'd wanted to do was cheer the other boys up. Maybe distract Woojin for a bit, as the dark smudges beneath his eyes get deeper and deeper every time he looks in the mirror.

He'd been doing his best to be a good friend, and Woojin had-

He feels worse than bad. He's the oldest,  _he's_ the one that's supposed to be responsible. Not Jeongin, not some child who's dealing with more than he should ever have to. And yet Woojin has let him down. This feeling in his stomach is horrible, blending with the worry that  _Chan's never going to come back_. He's just so tired, he just wants to be held. He wants, just for a second, to pretend that everything's alright again.

Why can't everything be alright again?

"Jeongin's not here right now."

Woojin's grip around his phone falters, and for a second, he's convinced he's going to drop the device onto Jeongin's driveway. Then, as suddenly as he'd lost it, his motor control returns. He bows his head, cheeks flushing. This is embarrassing, more so than it is strange. Jeongin's mom, although sweet, is incredibly absent-minded. She can barely keep track of her three thousand children, let alone who their friends are, so having Woojin turn up at the house with Jeongin unable to vouch for him is suspicious. "Oh. I'm sorry for wasting your time then, Ma'am."

There's a shriek from behind her, one of the kids running through the hallway. While her attention is on something else, Woojin slips out of the gate and back down the street.

God, he feels so ill.

Jeongin's gone, he's not home, and Woojin has to do everything to convince himself that he's not like-

He's coming back.

Jeongin, and Chan.

They're coming back.

There are so many other places that Jeongin could be, he reassures himself, so many places. He could be at the shops, or at the roller-skating rink. He- he could be anywhere. As long as Woojin thinks, as long as he still believes that Jeongin hasn't dis- disappeared, he'll be fine.

Woojin will get the chance to apologise.

He doesn't even want to think about the possibility that he won't. It hurts too much. Woojin is so tired, and he knows that Jeongin believes him that Chan didn't run away, even when no one else does. He didn't question Woojin's tireless attempts to find him, didn't complain when Woojin dragged them all around the whole town twice. And all he's done is shout at him, make him feel like he's worthless.

Chan isn't here, but Jeongin is.

And Woojin needs to apologise for forgetting that.

He knows where Jeongin will be, because if he's not at home, he's out being a better friend than Woojin could ever be. In his fear of losing Chan forever ( _which won't happen,_ he tells himself,  _Chan's coming back)_ , he's forgotten about everything else. More specifically, Minho's permanent absence from school.

Jeongin hasn't, though, because he'd sent messages to their group chat about trying to get him to leave his house. Woojin hadn't replied, and neither had Seungmin, but Jeongin wasn't the type to give up. He'd be there, waiting, probably yelling through Minho's front door in an attempt to annoy him out, or something. He didn't suddenly forget everyone else, for the sake of one person.

And Chan wouldn't either.

As much as Woojin is trying, his life is falling apart at the seams. Chan wouldn't have shouted at Jeongin, because Chan didn't shout at anyone. Chan wouldn't have let Minho disappear inside his house; because Chan would have kept his words soft and they'd have worked anyway. Chan never would have let Seungmin collapse, because Chan noticed things like that.

If anyone else was in his position, Chan would have found them by now. Everything would be back to normal, because it wouldn't have ever changed in the first place. Chan wouldn't just let any of them disappear, because he was a good friend, and an amazing boyfriend, and-

And Woojin misses Chan so,  _so_ much.

He wants, more than anything, to be held. They could sit together all day, hands intertwined. Their bracelets would knock against each other, ringing out in the morning air. He wants to hear Chan's laugh, to feel his heartbeat before the heat of the day hits. The sky would erupt in sunrise, and Chan would name every colour he could see with one of Woojin's favourite songs. He'd hum under his breath, cheeks pink not just from the cool air.

He wants Chan to hold him tight and never let go. And then, quietly in the most intimate hour of the morning, reassure Woojin that he'd never leave.

Chan would never choose to leave Woojin. They're in love, he's sure of it, and that's stronger than everything. Chan wouldn't leave this sleepy town for anything. He wouldn't just- disappear.

If Woojin tells himself enough, maybe he'll start to believe it again.

Beside him, he passes a small alleyway. It's mostly hidden by bushes, but there's a dusty path just through the layer of undergrowth. The air is warm, but so much cooler than anywhere else, and the air a few metres down the track sparkles briefly.

The colours are brighter there, if just for a second, but Woojin doesn't look up to notice. The trees hide it too well, as if they'd purposely moved to keep the strange sight from him.

Their shade covers everything but an open bag of cat food. It lies, spilling the contents just onto the pavement. He passes by, oblivious to the tabby cat ripping the bag open even further, alone in the dusty path where two sets of footsteps cut off abruptly.  
  


 

 

**THE IN-BETWEEN**   
  
  


It's pretty obvious that Hyunjin isn't going to come back. Felix knows that; he'd known it from the moment Hyunjin carried Seungmin into the portal. There's no way he was coming back here, where the grass is stained with Seungmin's blood. Chan and Changbin's presence doesn't make the matters any better, either.

Hyunjin had never wanted to return to The In-between, not even before everything had happened. The only reason he'd returned to Eden was for Seungmin, and before that to collect Felix. Right from the moment he'd stepped into the suffocating heat, his heart had been set on Earth.

Which meant there were three ways it could have gone.

If The Woods killed both Seungmin and Hyunjin, he wouldn't come back. He wouldn't return, because they'd be nothing more than two bodies in the middle of a forest. The Woods wasn't cruel, Felix knew that, so maybe death had been the most merciful option. If Seungmin- if his injuries were too severe, Felix had no doubt that Hyunjin would join him in departing the world. They'd be together, without sparing a thought for what- and who- they were leaving behind.

If The Woods killed Seungmin, Hyunjin would lay ruin to the world around him. He'd try to burn the forest to the ground, and through the trees would walk Jisung. A stronger flame, a greater anger, and it would end much as if The Woods had killed him in the first place.

And if anything else happened...

"They're not dead," says Chan. He opens his eyes again, dropping his hands from Changbin's. Their eyes glow with a matched passion, lighting up the marks on their faces in blue and red. In places, the colours cross over to create a flickering purple. The shade makes Felix feel a bit ill.

"How do you know?" He asks, trying not to think about the implications behind Chan's words. The fact that they're alive and they haven't come back means they haven't changed at all. It means New-Felix has ended up in the same place as Old-Felix.

Alone.

Changbin looks at him. There's no pity in his eyes, which makes Felix feel slightly better, even if he knows the other two boys have reached the same conclusion as him. "There's a feeling we get, from our connection to The Woods. Every time a portal is opened, it's like someone's put their fingers at the base of our skulls and- pulled at something."

"Does it hurt?"

Changbin shakes his head quickly. "No! No- it's more like a soft tug. I felt it just then, and since we were using our connection to search for any portals that were being opened, we were able to tell how many souls passed through it."

"Two," supplies Chan, when Changbin doesn't speak again, "They're in Earth."

Felix should be happy that they're not dead. He doesn't want them to be killed, lying bleeding out on the forest floor because of a stupid decision he made. He doesn't want to be the cause of their deaths, as much as he doesn't quite want to accept that he's still alone.

Because if Hyunjin and Seungmin are alive in Earth- the fact that they've even  _gone_ to Earth instead of coming straight back to The In-between- means they're not coming back for him. Just as he'd hoped wouldn't be true.

After all this time, after all the promises they'd made, Felix should have known that nothing had ever changed.

New-Felix is even more lonely than Old-Felix.

Yes, he's more confident, bolder and finally speaking up for himself, and that's something he wouldn't trade back for the world, but he'd hoped they might remember him. Seungmin, maybe, after all that time they'd spend together making bracelets in empty hallways. Hyunjin, after finally realising the world didn't just revolve around him.

But if he hadn't changed, he'd at least have hope. He could blame all of his problems on the fact that he was too timid, pretend that if he'd spoken up, things may have ended differently. And when he did change, when he did decide that he was fed up of being unhappy, his confidence would never have to falter for a single second.

New-Felix is more lonely, because he knows that everything he did made no difference.

Changbin sits beside him. The grass is still slightly damp from where Hyunjin had been held back by Chan, but it doesn't seem to affect him. Instead, his eyes stay fixed on Felix. "I don't think they're coming back."

Felix scoffs. He's not stupid, he knows they've left him here. Sure, it hurts, but he's not going to dance around the point when it's so obvious to everyone. "I know that," he says, but immediately regrets the harshness of his tone. Changbin doesn't deserve that, not when he's been nothing but kind. And then another thought strikes him. "But what about Jisung?"

"What?"

"He's the third person, right? Or, at least he's supposed to be. What happens now?"

"Maybe he'll just calm down," says Chan. His eyes are full of optimism, the sign that he hasn't quite lost hope in the younger boy yet. Even though he'd seen what he'd done to Seungmin, he's willing to give him another chance. "Maybe it was spur of the moment. He might still want to join-"

Changbin isn't quite as lenient. Felix can tell that he wants to say something, point out the fact that their bond was completed anyway. That without Jisung, it wasn't right, but somehow there was someone else in his place. He opens his mouth to speak, but falters, turning to nudge Felix instead. "You knew Jisung the best," he says, "What do you think?"

It's such a small action, but Felix's heart skips a beat anyway.

His opinion.

They want to know what he thinks- they're  _actually including him in the conversation._ And maybe New-Felix is not as lonely as he thinks he is. Maybe, he's just been looking in the wrong place for his friends all this time.

And he shakes his head. As much as he wants to believe Jisung could be saved, as much as the smallest part of him still clings onto the hope that Hyunjin had gotten it wrong, Felix is done with giving people second chances. He may want Jisung to still be a good person, but he knows it isn't true. He's rotten from the core, Seungmin's injuries flashing behind his eyelids in a halo of rubble and ash. 

"He won't." It's all their fault - and Felix  _wishes_  he could apologise for every second of it - but there's nothing he can do. "He's too far gone. We ignored him for too long, there's no way he's coming back now."

_And if he does,_ Felix thinks _, he himself if going to come out of it just like Seungmin._

"We won't have enough power if we don't have Jisung." Changbin's voice is deceptively calm, its natural roughness disguising any emotion he might have shown. But Felix sees past that, and into the way he's sat up straight. His eyes are tired, and his fingers run over the fabric of his trousers in a way that's obviously supposes to calm him down.

He almost reaches out a hand, attempts to soothe him- but freezes. No. He's fed up of noticing what no one else does. Even if it's only Changbin, he can't afford to let his guard down already. Just look at what happened with Seungmin and Hyunjin; he can't afford that happening, not again.

Chan frowns. "Don't say that. You don't know that for sure- whoever's in his place must be strong if they managed to get to The Woods on their own."

"But it's not  _Jisung."_

"And maybe that's what The Woods wants! Maybe he's going to come back, we can't lose hope this easily, maybe-"

Changbin stands up. Felix joins him, not wanting to be the only one sat down, but regrets the decision once he sees the fire in his eyes. "It has to be Jisung. Don't you understand? This whole thing is about balance and mirror opposites. There are only four people from Eden, and it has to be one of them to balance out Earth. It  _has to be Jisung."_

Chan's mouth catches on something, a small syllable that Felix can't make out, and there's a flicker of confusion in his eyes. But he tears his eyes away, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood and forcing himself to look down. What part of 'stop noticing' doesn't he understand? What part of not being vulnerable, of  _trying to be happy for once_  does he not understand?

"Is there not another way?"

They both look at him. Surely there's something else they can do- go ask The Woods for a favour or something. If they're helping restore balance, shouldn't they get some extra help? He's just about to suggest this when Changbin speaks first.

"The fruit-"

"Would that work?"

"It's worth a try." Changbin takes Felix's hand- and his skin is  _so warm, so soft,_  and Felix can't help the way his cheeks heat up. "There might be a way we can change this, but I'll need your help."

"My help?" asks Felix dumbly. His help? That's practically unheard of in Eden. He's never been of use, never even considered something other than a place for Seungmin to unload all of his problems. New-Felix has vowed never to be used in that way again, but surely Changbin and Chan are different. Surely, they won't take advantage of him in the same way. Surely, the fact that they're even asking in the first place shows that it can't be the same.

But still, New-Felix has built up walls. "What does 'my help' involve, exactly?"

Changbin grins at him. "We can change the past. Only briefly, but maybe it'll be enough. The Woods- if they let us, this could change everything-" He's started to ramble in his excitement, childlike joy filling him in a way that make his body shake with anticipation.

"You'll need to go to Eden," says Chan. Something in his voice says he's not fully onboard with this plan, that he'll never quite lose hope with Jisung coming back, because that's just the type of person he is. "I'll stay here, just in case-"

"Jisung returns?" says Felix, "He's not going to."

He squeezes Changbin's hand back, taking a step backwards. He's ready. Change the course of time? Changbin can do anything- going into the past is probably nothing for someone so powerful. Felix is just happy that he's been chosen to come along, even if it is just for moral support.

Just like that, New-Felix is already changing.

Not being manipulated again be damned, this is what he  _wants_  to do. If this is going to make him happy, even for the smallest amount of time, then that's what he's going to do. He said he was going to stop over-thinking, stop noticing every little thing, didn't he?

The portal begins to tug at his feet before he can continue the thought too far. As he's pulled backwards, the stench of smoke already filling his lungs, he can't help but think-

Maybe he can be happy this time.

 

 

**EDEN**

 

The world lies in ruins.

Felix had been expecting destruction, he'd seen Seungmin's injuries and known the fire must have destroyed most of the house. He'd been expecting smoke and ash, the heavens opening with the downpour that had soaked Hyunjin. He'd expected the last few embers to burn in the corner, as the place he'd spent his entire life had been reduced to rubble.

He was expecting ruin, but he wasn't prepared for it.

His home is gone.

The rain has cleared, but what remains of the walls are still drenched, stained dark with water. There are no carpets left on the floor, even though he knows there should be, nothing but scorch marks and ashen stains. The sky is coloured black with soot, the very last remnants of smoke making it hard to breathe.

Felix can see corridors in the distance. Ones he'd run up and down millions of times, simply bricks on the floor. There's an acrid stench in the air that hits the back of his throat. He knows the scent of burning flesh is only in his imagination, but it doesn't stop him from choking on in, doesn't stop the hot tears running down his face.

This was his  _home._

"We can change this?" His voice is small in his throat, and he hates how weak he sounds. But he needs to know. The destruction, the pain and the devastation, can it all be changed? Can they give Felix another chance not to lose everyone, Seungmin another chance at life, Hyunjin another chance to stay? Can they give them a chance to save Jisung?

They pick their way through the ruins in silence. The flammable materials are mostly gone, things like paper books and wooden furnishings not standing a chance against the roaring flames. But on the other side, a few walls still stand tall against the cloudy sky. The glass has been knocked out of the windows, and the empty panes left behind glare at him like unblinking eyes.

Changbin hasn't replied. Felix turns to face him, a question caught at his tongue that dies away when he sees the older's expression.

He's in pain. That's the simplest explanation of the way his face is screwed up, his hand pressed over his eye not quite enough to stop the blue glow from escaping. He hisses steadily, probably to stop him crying out with something stronger.

"Changbin?"

He shakes his head, but the movement seems to make the pain worse, as his legs crumple beneath him. Felix catches him before he can hit the sodden ground, looking desperately around for somewhere they can sit. In the far corner of the house, the furthest place from the fire, a few rooms are mostly untouched. One of them is a dining room- the last of many- and Felix drags Changbin over, placing him in the sturdiest looking chair, to the left of the head of the table.

The glow over his eye gets stronger. It pulses briefly, before reaching an intensity so bright it leaves imprints on Felix's eyelids. " _Minho,"_ says Changbin, but his voice is hoarse and so quiet that Felix can't tell whether he really spoke at all.

"Minho?"

And just like that, the light is gone. Changbin's hand falls away from his face pale, and there are the remainders of tears in his eyes. He's obviously in pain, but he pushes past it, looking right at Felix. "Jisung- Jisung's in The In-Between. I felt him go through, but he was with someone else, and it  _hurt,_ he was so  _strong._ He's too far gone, Felix, and all I could think was  _Minho._ "

Minho.

It's just a name, and a pretty common one going by how many times Felix has read it in his books. And yet, Changbin had been in agony. They were being told something important, he's sure of it.

"Is this a sign?" He asks tentatively. It could be- a message from The Woods telling them what to do- but why would The Woods put Changbin through that much pain? It was more likely that Jisung was so corrupt that even entering Changbin's reality had caused the older so much hurt.

And yet...

Changbin drops his eyes. He grips the edge of the table, and Felix takes a seat beside him. From here, he can see straight down the broken edges, right into the remains of his home. "I don't know," he admits, "I don't think it's from The Woods. But it's all we have."

He pauses, frowning with concentration. His eye glows again, and in front of Felix, the air shimmers. It's similar to the creation of a portal, but so much smaller and condensed, and when Changbin opens his eyes, there's a ring of pineapple in front of him.

"We can't let Jisung meet Minho." He says, and he slides the plate over to Felix.

"What about you?" Felix splutters. Wasn't Changbin the one who was supposed to go back? He's the one that's powerful, the one that wouldn't mess everything up. Felix thought he'd just been dragged along for moral support, but it's starting to sound an awful lot like...

Changbin smiles at him. "What about me? You're the one from Eden, and you're the one that knew Jisung."

There's a knife and fork either side of the china plate. He picks then up slowly, feeling the cold metal against his palms. He  _is_ strong. Changbin has a point; Felix knows his way around Eden better than anyone else. And, he thinks bitterly, no one would ever pay him enough attention to notice if he was acting strange. With shaking hands, he presses the fork into the fruit, bringing it up to his lips.

This is it.

New-Felix has a chance to change everything. He's more confident, he can stand up for himself, and sitting it the rubble of his home with a boy he barely knows, he's happier than he's ever been before.

He can do this.

"The world will help you," says Changbin. His eyes aren't on the pineapple, or even on the ruins of the world around them. They're on Felix's, constantly reassuring him that it's okay. He's not alone, because Changbin is there, and he's never going to let go. "It doesn't want to end. If anything seems wrong or different to how you remember, you have to trust it."

He can do this.

Felix nods. "It's okay," he says, and then he smiles at Changbin. He smiles, and it isn't forced at all. The world smells of smoke, the sky is grey with pain and ground stained with blood, and yet Felix knows that he's more home now than ever. Changbin here with him, and Chan back in The In-Between, are better to him than Hyunjin and Seungmin ever were.

Once he gives Jisung another chance, maybe the four of them can stay in the field with purple flowers and huge mirrors.

"I know you can."

Felix bites down into the pineapple. It's nothing like the apple that had taken him to Eden; that had been suffocatingly sweet, making his eyes water and throat seize up. The pineapple has a sharpness to it that cancels out the overwhelming flavour, stinging the cuts on his lips. It fills his head all the same, colouring his vision with overwhelming taste, but it's so much more pleasant this time.

He'd chosen this, chosen to bite into the fruit. There are no wardrobe walls pressing in on him, because the wardrobe had been reduced to ash. Here, in the remains of the hallway, sat at the head of a table that was once made for kings, Felix has chosen every second of this.

He bites into the pineapple, and he's  _happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more than 70k in and minsung fiNALLY MEET


	21. Chapter 21

 

  
**EDEN**

 

Felix's head spins.

The sudden wave of nausea recedes as soon as it arrived, and before he realises, the black spots in front of his eyes have disappeared. He loosens his fingers from where they'd been gripped against the table, and licks the remnants of pineapple juice from his lips.

He can still taste the fruit stuck in his teeth, coating his mouth. Changbin's eyes on him. Watching as he bites down, as he tries to stop his hands from shaking.

He's so distracted by the flavour, that it takes a while to take in his surroundings.

Eden is still standing.

The room is huge, identical to every single other one and achingly familiar. If he traced his fingers over the top of the bookcases, he'd feel the same ridges drawn into the design. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling sparkle with the same amount of crystals, casting light across the thick carpets. Every window is beautifully ornate, looking out over a forbidden world.

On table in front of him is his bracelet making equipment. Endless balls of coloured thread in every shade imaginable. He'd been halfway through making one when he arrived, but it's been pulled taut from his fingers wrapped around the edge of the table. The thread digs into his fingers, cutting off the bloodstream.

He unties it slowly.

Light green, softer and slightly tinged with blue but not strong enough to be turquoise. It's wrapped around a dark blue cord, tiny strand of silver and lilac woven into the material. It's almost finished, so once it's removed from his fingers, he lays it to the side.

Seungmin's voice drones on in the background. He's complaining about Hyunjin again, how much his heart hurts when the older boy ignores him, but how perfect he looks when doing something even as simple as walking down the corridor. Maybe he should feel bad about ignoring him, when he's pouring his heart out, but Felix doesn't need to pay attention. He's heard this all before

Hyunjin this- Hyunjin that-  _god,_ how did he manage to stand this for so many years?

He didn't think he'd changed  _that_  much; New-Felix is still just a goal in the distance, but even standing in the room where so many hours of his life had been wasted sitting complacent makes his skin burn.

There are so many feelings running through his mind - he's angry, at himself for just sitting through this torture doing nothing. He's embarrassed - knowing he could have done something at any point, he was just too weak, too afraid of being alone  _like Jisung._ He's frustrated, because all of this time he could have been happy.

Although he was forced into a role he didn't want to play, he chose that path for himself.

And yet, despite how much it pains him, he has to play into it. It physically hurts him to sit so quietly, stuck listening to everyone else's problems when they couldn't care less about him. But he can't let them know something is off. New-Felix doesn't fit into this perfectly constructed world, where even the slightest wrong move could send everything tumbling down.

'The Butterfly Effect', if he remembers his books correctly. Every action he takes here could have the consequence of destroying the future -  _his_ future. He's only here to send the message to Minho, and that's it. Tempting as it might be to stand up for himself now, he just can't risk it.

"Felix?" Felix hadn't realised he was pulling a face, but Seungmin's voice makes him remember where he is. The tension drains from his body once he's broken out of his thoughts, forcing him to relax.

And suddenly, it's as if nothing has changed.

He averts his eyes out of habit, awkwardly picking at the edge of the table, before remembering that's not who he is anymore. Being back in Eden is messing with his head, and he finds it so  _easy_ to listen. His mind reminds him that it's what a good friend would do, after all, and if he doesn't listen then no one else will. Surely, they'd do the same thing for him, if he just gives them one more chance, maybe he won't be let down this time.

No.

He has to fight the instinct. He can't forget what he's here to do. There's something much more important that friendships at risk here, and although every flash of Eden as it once was makes his head spin, he has to remember what happens next.

The apple, the wardrobe, Jisung and the fire. Seungmin continues talking, and Felix uses the sound like white noise, blocking out the pain in his bones and realigning his thought. Changbin is waiting for him, Chan standing in Eden. Hyunjin and Seungmin in Earth, and Jisung lost in a world alone.

Minho - a boy  _he doesn't even know -_ but so much more important that Felix knows he could ever imagine.

"Sorry." There's got to be some sort of excuse that Seungmin would believe- any sort of lie really. He doubts the younger boy has ever paid him enough attention to work out if it were the truth or not. Any half-assed fabrication would do, but his mind runs blank. Even with the thought of what he needs to do firmly in his mind, he can't work out what to say when he opens his mouth.

Old-Felix has gone, New-Felix is unreachable, and he's stuck somewhere in the middle.

Seungmin doesn't seem to realise that. He frowns momentarily, and then goes immediately back to talking about Hyunjin. "I don't understand," he says, "How can be so  _perfect-"_

Felix can't stay here for another second. If he doesn't leave now, he'll never be able to. Every moment he spends trapped, his blood boils a little more. He can feel himself being dragged back down, suffocating on every word he's forced to listen to whilst no one realises he's choking. He forces himself to cut out Seungmin's voice again-

_white noise_

_white noise_

_white noise,_ and his chair scrapes against the floor when he stands up. His voice is loud in the quiet, ringing too low and too deep. He's speaking up against the silence, and the look on Seungmin's face makes the pain worth it. "I have to go."

Seungmin's hands have frozen over his bracelet. The threads hang suspended in the air, and Felix can see his mind working at three thousand miles an hour. He's smarter than they give him credit for, hiding his intelligence behind adoration for a boy that couldn't care less. It's nice knowing that he'll eventually learn the worth of that wit, but Felix can only pray he hasn't changed yet. "What? Where?"

He doesn't have a reply to that, but he doesn't think he needs one. He grabs a completed bracelet off the table, not even looking at the colours or design, "I have to go."

The bracelet fits around his wrist perfectly, and clipping the clasp together makes it easier to drown out Seungmin's confused shouts. It doesn't matter too much, since he knows the younger boy won't follow, but that's nothing against the guilt. The only thing he can do is swallow the feeling down, and tries to forget about it.

Seungmin will just go back to following Hyunjin.

He doesn't need Felix there; he just wants someone to complain to.

It hurts to admit, but he knows it's true. He's been through this all before, he knows what will happen, and he should have learnt by now that trying to play nice doesn't make the pain go away.

His shoes are soft on the carpeted floor, and his shadow dances across the blue walls. The sound is calming, and keeps his thoughts from becoming too loud. He doesn't know how long it is that he spends walking down the corridors, since they all look the same, and the seconds begin to blur into one.

Eventually, his heart stops pounding quite so hard, and he slows down to take in his surroundings.

There's light on the floor, pouring in from between heavy velvet curtains. There's an aura of dust in the air, but his gut instinct tells him to keep going. He takes a few more steps, before something catches his eye.

Lace, in the corner. It's caught in a door that's fastened shut with a heavy gold lock, but that's not what has his attention. The soft fabric catches in the breeze, fluttering up every so often and brushing the dark wood. It's a delicate design, so pretty that he almost doesn't want to touch it, in fear that it'll disintegrate beneath his fingers. The dust swirls in the light, casting shadows onto the blue walls.

There's something off, the air usually so still but the patterns so fascinating. He can't tear his eyes away, even if he knows he should keep moving. Something's wrong, and his mind stutters slightly in an attempt to work out why.

_Lacedoorlockdustbreezeblue-_

Breeze. The window- he spins around to see the curtains again, and sure enough the window is wide open. The trees outside flutter, leaves just caught enough by the wind to move, and there's  _a cat on the windowsill._ A tabby that licking itself as it stares at him, watching the bracelet tied to his wrist. With a delicate paw, it reaches out and tugs at a loose sheet of paper, causing the pen to roll off the perch and land on the floor.

'The world will help you,' Changbin had said. This open window, in a house where every opening is barred, can't be a coincidence.

"Hello," Felix says as he picks the pen up, uncapping it and beginning to ink out a careful message, "I assume you know what to do with this?" The strip of paper isn't big, but it's long enough that he can fit all the words on neatly.

To his surprise, he doesn't have to think about what to write. The words come naturally, as if he's heard them before:  _Minho, stay away from Han Jisung._ They're familiar, but he doesn't have time to think about why, since the cat meows at him impatiently. When he's finished and has put the pen down, it sticks it's neck out obediently, as if waiting for a collar.

Felix waves his hands, flustered. "I don't have a collar," he says out loud. The cat's neck is bare, but if there was something there, he could tuck the note in and just hope it didn't fall out. As if it understood him, the cat rolls its eyes. It glares at him, more specifically at his wrist, and Felix wonders why until he sees the bracelet he'd picked up so hurriedly tied around it.

Of course!

It's not the prettiest of combinations, and it's not even a threaded pattern like most of his more complicated ones. It's brightly coloured beads- sunny yellow and smoky grey shot through with black - and as he fastens the thin wire around the cat's neck, a tuft of hair catches in the clasp. The cat hisses, but it's not too fed up as it lets him tuck the paper into the bracelet without much fuss.

"Thank you," he says, once it's pulled away, because it seems like the right thing to do. The cat blinks at him slowly, and then jumps from the window, disappearing into the long grass and slipping through the gates that surround the house. He watches it go in silence. It seems wrong, how it escapes the house so easily. This open window, that tiny gap in the iron gate, could have changed the future beyond repair. He doesn't allow himself to consider how it could have been if there had been an open window instead of an apple in a wardrobe, because it hurts too much. Instead, he pulls the window shut, cutting off the breeze and any hope he could have given his past self of finding a way out.

It hurts.

Knowing freedom was this easy the whole time, that they were a simple whim of the world away from their dreams. None of this had to happen. They could have left when they were still young, before they could ever begin to think of fighting.

His fingers pause on the latch. Once he shuts this window, there's no going back. He can feel it in the way the lace has crept along the floor, covering his shoes and tickling his ankles. The air hums with energy, the pineapple juice from before coating his lips despite him not eating any. When he drops this latch, the portal will open and take him back.

Changbin is waiting.

In a room that used to be so beautiful, Changbin is waiting for him with crushed glass beneath his feet. The wooden table with charred edges, every broken window staring at him. Felix can't let him down, no matter how much it hurts.

It would be so  _easy_ to keep the window open.

Maybe Seungmin wouldn't get hurt, maybe Hyunjin wouldn't leave, maybe Jisung wouldn't burn down their home. There's a distinct buzzing around him, power in its rawest form pulsing in and out.

It would be so easy to stay.

But Changbin is waiting.

Felix looks out if the window one last time, takes in the house he grew up in before it was reduced to ash, and drops the latch.

 

 

**THE IN-BETWEEN**

 

Jeongin is pretty sure he's drunk. If it weren't for the fact he's very much underage, very much hasn't even had a sip of alcohol in his life, and would very much be skinned alive by Chan and Woojin if he had, this has got to be some sort of hangover.

Either that, or it's a fever dream.

The colours behind his eyelids are too bright, so he squeezes them shut, shifting his position on the ground and wincing. Everything hurts. His ribs ache in a way that can't be good, and the way he's curled up into himself does nothing to alleviate the pain. There's a throbbing pain in his head, a sort of bleariness that's settled over his eyes, and when he opens his mouth to groan in pain, his tongue is like sandpaper.

What had happened?

There's a huge gap in his memories, one that itches like it's just out of his reach. He  _knows_ something has happened- he wouldn't be here feeling like he's got the hangover of the century if it hadn't - but he can't quite work out what. It's simply missing.

He shifts again, ignoring the blank in his mind for a while. His chest still hurts, but it's getting better slowly. The pounding of his headache is beginning to recede, and when he finally opens his eyes again, the colours aren't too blinding. He reaches up to his forehead now that it doesn't hurt too much to move, and rubs at his temples. He's half expecting his fingers to come back with blood, but when he inspects them, they're clean.

Or rather, when he inspects both of them.

Now his eyes aren't as blurry, he finally takes in where he is.

And maybe he shouldn't have dismissed the idea of this being a fever dream so easily.

He pushes himself up, and his reflection stares back at him. There's long grass all around him, dotted with tiny purple flowers that are more petal than anything else. The sky is blue, but it's not as suffocating as it is normally, and it lacks the prickle of sweat on his skin. A dense wood borders the side of the field, though it's just far enough that he's not worried about any bugs on the ground. And besides, he's not even actually on the grass.

He'd woken up on a large, circular mirror.

It's big enough to fit his entire body on, and reflects the glare of the sun above him in a way that makes him wish he had sunglasses. It's not the only one in the field- there are about ten more dotted around - but his is the only one with a person on. It doesn't help that he doesn't have a good feeling about this.

His stomach is tied in knots, rolling over and over, and when he eventually pulls himself off the mirror and onto the grass, he only feels worse. The glass of the mirror  _isn't glass._ As the last of his body leaves the cold material, it ripples beneath his shoes.

"What the  _fuck,"_ he whispers.

Thank god Chan isn't around to tell him off for using strong language, because there's absolutely nothing else he can think of to say. The mirror swells like water beneath his fingertips. When he pushes down, instead of glass or whatever mirrors are usually made of, his hand disappears  _into it._ It sends out tiny ripples around his hand, distorting the reflection of his own shell-shocked face. This isn't normal. This isn't right at all.

He was  _just_ lying on it. And now- now it seems like it could swallow him whole. It's only like water in that it's some sort of liquid - he can't see through the metallic silver all. There could be anything on the other side of the circle.

Jeongin quickly decides that this is a very bad idea. Unfortunately, he seems to be having a lot of those recently.

Before any sort of logic can stop him, he leans forwards and dips his whole arm into the mirror. It disappears up to his elbow, swirling around his fingers in a way that's more like mist than liquid. It's not uncomfortable, just  _strange,_ and he can't help the goosebumps that erupt on his skin. It's colder than he'd expected. Like ice, almost but not as painful and more numbing. Whatever it is, it's deep, and as far as he can tell safe, so-

He sticks his head in it.

Okay, maybe this isn't the best idea he's ever had. It's very dark, and whatever the liquid is stings his eyes so much that he has to squeeze them shut. His face is enveloped in cold (maybe this is karma for wanting to climb into the fridge earlier), and the mist loops through his hair, stroking his cheeks with the ghost of fingertips. There  _better not_ be a ghost in here.

A ghost, although cool if he had some of his friends with him, would probably murder him right now. In fact, sticking his head in a random mirror-puddle is exactly what someone would do in a horror movie, just before they got murdered.

And dying in an abandoned field has got to be a hard pass.

If he's going to die, it's going to be  _after_ the summer holidays, thank you very much.

The thought freaks him out a bit, so he digs his nails back into the soft grass, using his own weight to resurface. The back of his head emerges fine, the warm air sticking to his damp hair, but as soon as his face leaves-

It's bright.

His thoughts come together in a kaleidoscope of colours, blurring into one bright rainbow and making his head spin. He's vaguely aware that he's choking, coughing out the remnants of the mist-water, but his mind is in hyper-drive. Everything he knows -  _woojinchanseungminminho -_ erupts from the back of his mind.

He hadn't forgotten, that would be impossible, but whatever the mirror did to him has changed his memories into high definition. It's as if he's living his whole life again, crammed into only a few seconds. There's a surreal gauze to them, but just as soon as he thinks that, there's a drop.

One day at the park, he arrives with Seungmin a few minutes late. The tarmac sticks to their skin, metal chains of the swings untouchable in the heat. It only lasts for a heart-beat, but something changes. The flashing colours speed up, he's still choking somewhere very far away, and he  _remembers what he's doing here._

The cassette tape, the whispers of the leaves, and- hang on, he's pretty sure he's not supposed to remember this.

In fact, he's definitely not supposed to remember this. Isn't that what the taking leaves said? But despite what he was told, he remembers the pain, his entire world feeling like it was splitting apart as his body shifts from orange to purple. The splitting pain in his head, his body curling up on himself, the burning of every shade of red imaginable. In fact, he'd been conscious when he'd first woken up here, but the pain must have been too much and he'd blacked out again.

His reflection stares back at him in the mirror.

Huh.

Really, his head is still hurting too much to make a proper decision. The colours from his mind are burned into the back of his eyelids, and his ribs ache with every breath he takes. The trainer that he'd tried to fix with duct tape has come completely loose, and now hangs off his foot pathetically. Seeing himself in the mirror only highlights the bags under his eyes, and the flushed tint to his skin.

This must be The In-Between.

The tiny flowers, the endless blue sky, the fact that there are  _puddle-mirrors in the middle of the field_  all adds up to the pretty obvious fact that he's not in Earth any more. This is somewhere new altogether. It's cooler here, and the feeling is  _amazing._ It's the relief from the constant heat that he's dreamt of. Even the grass is damp beneath his knees, mud - mud! how long has it been since he last saw mud! - staining the fabric there.

And yet, there's a glimmer of the reflection that doesn't seem right.

Part of the sky, near where he'd dipped his hand, is slightly lighter than the rest. There are no clouds, and the leaves on the trees are curled and crisp. He could recognise the view anywhere. It's Earth.

He leans closer. What's Earth doing in the reflection of the mirror? That can't be right. He glances behind him to check that he's not just seeing things, but that's only confirms it. And that's not the only thing - the closer he gets, the  _more it draws him in._ There's a tug in the pit of his stomach that reminds him of when he first joined the Three, but this leaves him lightheaded and giddy. Something pulls him closer, a familiar feeling that moves his lips without him realising what he's going to say.

"Show me Seungmin _."_

And the mirror ripples, changing the reflection until it's nothing more than shards of light, and then-

It isn't showing the sky anymore. Instead, it's as if he's looking down on a world, suspended with the clouds above the burning tarmac. A few leaves frame his vision, like he's watching perched in a tree, and it takes him a few seconds to work out what he's looking at.

It's the alleyway.

The path that he'd thought only him and Seungmin knew, he's looking at the very spot where he'd found the cassette. Once he's worked that out -  _it really showed him Earth! How call was that! -_ it doesn't take in long to work out something's missing. The air is glimmering slightly in the corner, but there's no one there.

"I asked to see Seungmin," he says, but the reflection doesn't change. It stays stubbornly on the dusty path, watching as the leaves hang still in the windless air. "Uh- this isn't Seungmin. This is a path."

The glimmer pulses slightly, and Jeongin's heart leaps into his chest. Maybe it listened this time! He never told Seungmin he was leaving, maybe this is his chance to go back and make it up to him. He's already decided he doesn't want this power anymore, that the red is too strong and doesn't fit him. Light spews onto the pavement, Jeongin's heart is beating at double-speed, but it's not Seungmin who steps out.

In fact, the boy who appears didn't step out at all. He's thrown from the glimmering air with such force that he's sent tumbling to the ground. He flies across the path, rolling in a way that's got to be pretty painful, and ends up connecting with a tree on the opposite side. The portal splutters, the glimmer much darker than what Jeongin had seen before, and the leaves stir despite there being no breeze.

It's kind of obvious something is strange.

The boy isn't Seungmin, but he's definitely  _someone._ He's wearing clothes that are slightly damp, raising the question of where he's been since it hasn't rained for  _months,_ and his jeans are covered in mud. There's a thick coating of ash and soot over his whole body, and Jeongin catches sight of bright red blood on his palms.

What had happened to him?

Where had he been that had soaked him in water, covered him in ash, and cut his palms?

And more importantly, why was he being shown this instead of Seungmin?

He asked to see his friend, not some random guy who looked like he wasn't having a great day. Was there some sort of confusion? The puddle was just a puddle after all, maybe he was putting too much faith into the reflection, what's to say this is even real at a-

The boy stirs. He sits up from the tree, rubs his temples, and scrambles back when he sees where he is. There are tear track lines down his cheeks, only made clearer by the ash staining his skin. He looks pretty much like Jeongin feels - dead inside.

The leaves begin to rustle with more energy. It's still weak compared to how ferocious they'd been in The Woods, but it's enough to send a chill down Jeongin's spine - and, by the way he acts, presumably the boy's as well. He sees them move and stands bolt upright on shaky legs. His mouth moves, something muttered under his breath that Jeongin can't quite catch, and begins to wobble out of frame.

"What?" Says Jeongin, confused beyond belief. God, this is even worse than maths class. "Show me more! Where's he going? Who is he?" Then he realises that he's been totally distracted and says, "Where's Seungmin?"

Nothing happens. The reflection stays in the same snapshot of Earth - the only way to tell it's still moving is the calming of the leaves. Jeongin sits, frozen, and after what feels like hours, the air begins to sparkle again. His body doesn't move despite him asking it to, and he ends up watching as another boy enters.

The new boy is much calmer (even if that's mostly because he actually steps out, instead of being thrown across the path like some sort of human pinball), but is equally as covered in ash. Jeongin can't quite make out his face, but something in the reflection makes his hair stand on edge. He crawls backwards, wanting to get further away from this strange, new boy. His head screams warnings at him as he moves away, telling him to move faster, every warning sign in his body lit up.

There's something off. The boy is dangerous, something about him dark and yet incredibly familiar. Something about the way he lights up the room, the shaking of his hands, the way his body screams at him to get away.

Ignoring every warning, Jeongin leans closer again, trying to make out his face. He's talking to someone just out of view, the corner of a bag just visible at the rim of the mirror...

"Hello?"

Jeongin scrambles back, about three seconds away from having a heart attack. That- that voice hadn't come from the mirror, but instead somewhere behind him. He hadn't been expecting it. In front of him, the reflection has gone back to showing the sky and clouds of The In-Between, his connection severed.

"Jisung?"

That's not a name he's heard before, but it's directed at him. He stands up, back to whoever's speaking, and spins around slowly with his hands in the air (better to be safe than sorry, he tells himself when he notices how badly his hands are shaking). "Uh- no, not Jisung. I'm-  _Chan?"_

Chan frowns. "You're Chan? That can't be right."

"No- I'm Jeongin -  _you're_ Chan!" And it is Chan! Standing right in front of him is Chan! He was right this whole time, Chan never left Earth, he's just been here in The In-Between the whole time, he's alive and well and-

Jeongin practically flies across the field between them. He latches onto Chan, trying to ignore the tears in his eyes (because  _no,_ he's not crying that would be silly) and hugs him like he's never going to let him go.

Chan!

It's really him! His white-blonde curly hair, strong arms- Jeongin has hugged him enough times to recognise this hold anywhere. He buries his face into Chan's shirt, trying to hide the tears falling down his cheeks and control his voice enough to speak without his voice breaking.

He'd missed him so,  _so_ much. They'd spent so long looking for him, and now he was finally here, and- what would Woojin say! He'd be so happy, he'd probably even cry, and maybe Jeongin wouldn't even film it, even if it would make amazing blackmail material.

Everything could go back to normal; they could go home and everything would be alright again-

"I- uh, I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Jeongin pulls away slightly, staring Chan in the eyes and hoping his face isn't  _too_ red. "What?"

Chan looks embarrassed. His cheeks are pink, and Jeongin knows him well enough to know that something's wrong. "How did you get here? If you're not Jisung, then who are you?"

And something clicks.

Chan doesn't remember him.

Chan, who's one of Jeongin's closest friends, who's sat with him every day for lunch for  _seven years,_ doesn't remember him.

It makes sense. It's why he hasn't returned, because he doesn't know how much he's hurting them by not being there. It explains why he hasn't called or texted, why he's so willing to let Woojin destroy himself. It's not that he doesn't care, he just... doesn't remember.

And Jeongin doesn't know what he's supposed to do now.

He pulls away awkwardly, wiping his tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "My name is Jeongin. I followed a cassette here, there was a forest and-" he trails off. Chan's eyes soften, the confusion replaced by a much more forgiving expression. In a way, it hurts more. It's so familiar and yet so distant, and all Jeongin wants is for him to say that he's just joking.

"You're the new member then?"

His words sting. It's like they've never met before, every single one of the memories they share... gone. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to find Chan and take him back, they were going to make everything better again. Not this.

"Do you really not know who I am?"

Chan wasn't expecting this as a reply. He frowns again, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. "I don't know if you've mistaken me for someone else, but I don't recognise you at all. It's okay- if you've just woken up, you're probably a little confused-"

But Jeongin isn't listening anymore. As Chan's arm had moved, the sleeve of his shirt had fallen down slightly. It wasn't by much, but it was enough. The movement of the fabric had revealed a cheap silver bracelet that Jeongin would recognise anywhere. No matter much he'd complained about it being too couple-y and cringy on Earth, right now he's never been happier to see it.

"Your bracelet!"

"What?"

Jeongin grabs him by the wrist. The bracelet- although Chan might not remember him, if he's still got such a hideous bracelet on, he  _must_ remember it's from Woojin. Which means if he shows him Earth, maybe the rest of his memories will start to come back. He drags him over to the mirror he'd been looking at before, staring into the reflection with renewed hope.

"We shouldn't be here," says Chan, "It's too unstable. The mirrors, they're dangerous,"

"They're fine." Jeongin peers into the water, biting his lip and praying that this works. There's no glimmer in the reflection yet, but that doesn't mean anything. The connection he'd felt with the mist earlier is beginning to bubble up again, fastening to part of his mind he never knew existed. It's feels like it's part of him, like it's always been there, and he's vaguely aware of a soft purple light on the side of his face.

"Jeongin-"

"Show me Woojin."

The reflection flickers, there's a tug on his mind, but nothing happens. He's not strong enough. The connection is too weak, there's nothing tying him to the older. Maybe if he had more practice, but there's no time.

"Jeongin, they're unstable, we shouldn't even be able to get this close without-"

"Don't you see?" His voice cracks embarrassingly on the second word, but at this point he's beyond caring. "Don't you remember?" He grabs Chan's wrist in desperation, pulling at the bracelet to try and bring his attention to it. He has to remember, he  _has_ to. "Woojin! Don't you remember him? And me, and Minho, and Seungmin, you can't have forgotten-"

Chan tugs his wrist back. His eye is faintly red, but it doesn't matter since Jeongin's already let go, and Chan's put too much effort into the movement, and the bracelet-

The bracelet drops.

It flies from his wrist with the force of him pulling away, and Chan's outstretched hand isn't quite fast enough to catch it before it breaks the surface of the mirror. It’s all they can do to watch in horror as it sinks down. The force of the impact sends ripples across it, the smallest reaction as Chan drops to his knees in horror.

Jeongin knees beside him awkwardly. He- he hadn’t meant to drop it. He’d just been trying to help, he’d thought that maybe Chan would remember, he didn’t want  _this_. God, it was all his fault. What was he thinking? But as soon as he thinks that, the ripples fade. There’s a tug at his mind, as if someone’s attached a rope to the base of his skull and pulled, and the reflection shows something else.

Woojin.

It worked! It really worked, the bracelet’s connection to Woojin must have strengthened the bond between him and Jeongin! Chan’s eyes are wide with something Jeongin can’t identify, he’s too busy going from emotion to emotion.

Woojin’s walking down the street, any one of the identical housing districts, and it’s so painfully obvious what he’s doing there. His eyes go from house to house, taking in anything that’s different, and he stops anyone that passes him by if they’d seen Chan. He’s done this every single day since he disappeared, and Jeongin is so,  _so_ glad that he hasn’t given up.

“Woojin?” Says Chan, and Jeongin almost screams in joy, because Chan’s remembering, maybe it will be alright after all, maybe they can all go home soon and everything will be alright. Chan, and Woojin reunited at last, and Seungmin and Jeongin there pretending to throw up when it got too cheesy, and they’d steal Minho’s chocolate milk or something, even though Jeongin’s sure he’d come even if they didn’t.

Neither of them notice the trees at the border of the field begin to creak. The leaves rustle despite the lack of wind, cursing a silver bracelet that had slipped past them. The trunks twist and gnarl, the leaves curl up, and the shadows behind the forest become darker and darker.


	22. Chapter 22

 

 

**EDEN**

 

Felix returns, breathless. His lungs ache with the force he was pulled back with, and when he opens his mouth, his lips are dry. He splutters briefly, and ends up in a coughing fit, the residue dust from Eden coating the inside of his mouth.

Changbin is by his side in an instant. "Felix!" He says, "Are you okay?"

Felix can't reply. The world is still spinning too much, and it takes him a few seconds before he manages to croak out, "I'm fine."

Changbin doesn't seem to believe him. He pulls him back into the chair he'd been in originally, pressing his shoulders down when he tries to stand up. "No, you're not."

And Felix finally looks down.

His clothes are covered in a mixture of ash and soot, staining his skin dark grey. There's a large tear in his trousers, though he can't remember for the life of him where it had come from, and his breathing is erratic. There's a ring around his wrist where he'd looped the bracelet, but it's not red or pink or peach or any other normal skin colour.

His wrist, right down to the tips of his fingertips and beginning to creep up the arms in his veins, is stained green.

It's a soft colour, slightly blue but not quite close enough to be considered turquoise. Delicate against the tan of his arm, blending more into the paler skin of his palm. Maybe he could convince himself that it's just stains from the grass, but the land beneath his feet is crisp and dead. No, whatever is happening to his arm is something much, much more dangerous.

"What," he says, and his voice is shaky no matter how much he tries to keep it calm, "What's happening?"

Changbin's hands are shaking. He pulls out the chair next to Felix's, and shivers when a huge gust of wind howls through the empty window panes. There's a thin line of blood underneath his nose, crusting the skin above his lips and staining it brown. His eye- the one that was glowing- flickers blue. Pulling Felix back must have been so much harder than he'd tried to convince him, and he looks absolutely wrecked. There's silence.

"Changbin." Felix says, and Changbin's eyes snap back to his.

He shakes his head. "I- It must be a side effect of time-travelling. I'm so sorry Felix, I didn't know this would happen, I- It'll fade eventually, I think. As long as you're not the one who goes back again, it'll go, I promise."

There's so much to take in, but Felix's mind fixates on the last part of the sentence. "Wait. Again?"

Changbin's silence is the only reply he needs.

Again- he'd said someone would have to go back again- which means that  _it didn't work._ The bracelet he'd sent hadn't changed a thing. In fact, now that his lungs aren't filled with dust and his head has stopped spinning, he can finally work out where he'd heard the message before.

Minho was the boy outside the shop. The one who'd accused him of sending death threats, which he hadn't- but  _now that he thought about it, he'd been talking about the note._ Nothing's changed, his hands are turning green, and Changbin looks like he's about to pass out.

"It didn't work," Changbin finally admits, even though he must know that Felix has worked it out by now. "We have to do something else."

And Felix stands up.

His legs are still shaky, but his mind is strong enough that he doesn't even need to support himself on the table for long. This is it- this is what he'll do. Even if he pointedly avoids looking at his fingers, he knows that this is how he'll make a change.

"I'll go."

Changbin, who'd already been shifting in his chair uncomfortably, bolts straight up. "What?" He says, "No! You can't! It's not safe, Felix, your arms-"

"Who else will go?" Felix has got his mind set on it. He's going to make a change or he's going to die trying. "Who else? Chan's too far away, you're obviously not strong enough to send yourself back- and we're running out of time. It  _has_ to be me."

Changbin shakes his head mutely, but he's sunk back into his seat. He knows the battle is lost before it's even begun, and the glint in his eyes tells Felix-

No, it doesn't tell Felix anything.

"Send me back," he says, "And we can change things. You said that The Woods works off balance? If we can't stop Jisung from joining, then we make sure it can never be unbalanced in the first place."

"Are you talking about Chan?"

He is. It hurts, the realisation that he'd been talking about his- his friend without even noticing it. But the time of Felix trying to please every single person is gone. He was burnt up, just like Eden, and New Felix is willing to make sacrifices. If this is what it takes to save the world, then, well, this is what it takes.

"He was happy before he came here, right?"

And Changbin takes his hand. Felix knows he understands, that maybe he'll always understand. "He was."

Before Felix even has time to reply, Changbin's touch is gone. His face is crewed up in pain, the faintest of blue glows visible through his closed eyelids. In front of them is a white china plate, completely empty except for a ring of pineapple.

Felix doesn't hesitate to bite into it this time, and now that he's expecting the flavour, it's so much sweeter. He swallows having barely chewed, resting his head on the back of the chair to get ready for the pull. When it comes, he's expecting it. There's nothing but determination in his mind, filling his bones and flooding his veins.

He'll stop Chan.

He will.

 

 

**EARTH**

 

The portal burns. Every inch of his skin is being pulled in a different direction, every atom in his body being pressed together. There's no air in his lungs, no thoughts in his mind other than the repeating mantra of  _hurtshurtshurtshurtshurts-_

Hyunjin is thrown across the path.

He's left the portal before he's even realised what's happening, and the same force that had been pulling him to pieces launches him across the ground. There's no time for him to find his balance, or even to put his arms out in an attempt to slow himself down, as he ends up practically bouncing across the floor. His body slams into a tree opposite where he'd just been thrown, winding him.

His lungs, already emptied from the portal, cry out in protest as the last few drops of air are slammed out. There are a few seconds where he doesn't know where he is. His head aches, eyes squeezed shut against the blinding light, and every muscle in his body screams at him. He's so completely disorientated that he doesn't even realise he's upside-down until he tries to move his legs. The bones there feel like jelly, his back still pressed up against the trunk of the tree.

He's felt this before.

Once, when he was younger and they all still got along, Hyunjin tried to fly.

They weren't too old, maybe seven or eight. It was just when the boredom was beginning to set in, the list of rules wasn't that long, and they'd all lined up at the top of the stairs armed with kneepads and parachutes made from scraps of fabric.

Hyunjin had attacked the sofa in one of the many living rooms with craft scissors, Seungmin had read up on every type of parachute in existence and instructed Felix on where to sew them together. When they were done, Jisung had painstakingly written each of their names in the fanciest bubble writing he could manage.

And they'd jumped.

There was no one to tell them it wouldn't work, no adults there to hold them back and explain the alien concept of 'gravity'. When Hyunjin had jumped from the staircase, two stories to the ground, he'd actually believed he'd fly.

They didn't, of course.

He doesn't remember the fall. Only the realisation that it hadn't worked as he collided with the mattresses they'd had the sense to lay out over the ground. He remembered the air leaving his lungs, every bone in his body seeming to tingle with electricity. His head spun, Jisung's quiet sobs sounding like they were coming from the other end of a long tunnel. He couldn't feel one hand, the arm that was trapped under his chest, and when he had shifted, he remembers how it had erupted in pain.

It's how he feels now.

Except, then they'd cried for a bit, fallen asleep, and then woken up tucked in their beds with the bruises mostly faded. Here, Hyunjin only has enough time to push past the black dots swimming in his vision, rubbing his temples as if that'll help, before he realises where he is. And what his back is pressed up against.

As if his body hasn't been through enough, the scrambles backwards. The tree-  _The Woods, he'd disobeyed The Woods oh god what was he thinking-_ stares back at him as he rests his hand over his heart. It's just a normal tree. There's- there's nothing it can do to him.

But it's served its purpose.

The wind rustles the leaves around him, and despite his aching body, he pushes himself up off the ground. It stings his palms, the desperation with which he'd flung himself away from the trunk having reopened the cuts. There's blood staining his sleeves, and the dust from the path creeps into the gashes, making them sting even more. He half-heartedly wipes them on his trousers, only realising once he's moved that he's covered in mud.

God, he must look a mess.

But- " _Seungmin."_

The whole reason he's here in the first place. He couldn't just go back to The In-Between with his hands empty. Felix's eyes were already empty enough, he couldn't admit that he'd failed and that Seungmin was... gone. Or, he bites his lip and tries to suppress the tears threatening to fall, it's more likely that he just couldn't deal with how they'd yell at him. Yet again, it always comes back to him.

He couldn't go back to The Woods. Something in the tone of the leaves, the way the portal back had sparkled, set him on edge. Nothing good could come out of returning, not when his body screamed at him to get away. The way they'd saved Seungmin so easily... it just didn't add up.

So, when it was time for him to leave Seungmin's body, he'd kept one hand on Earth. The portals worked as a door, so he'd guessed that there must be a corridor somewhere. And if he was strong enough, he could open an exit to Earth. Despite the pain of it pulling him to pieces, he'd used every drop of energy in his body to swing himself past the real destination, and ended up here.

The heat pressing into his skin means he doesn't have to question whether it had worked or not.

It takes him a few seconds to place his surroundings, but it's painfully obvious that the portal has just sent him flying from the same place as every other time. He probably knows this path better than anyone else, having walked down it so many times. When his feet start moving, the same steps he's taken so many times  _but never so alone,_ he doesn't stop himself.

Seungmin.

That's why he's here. Not to whine about the ache in his ribs or the cuts on his palms, but to find Seungmin.

Except, he doesn't quite know where to start.

Walking is better than staying still. He leaves the pathway and heads down the nearest road, following nothing more than his gut instinct. His body controls where he needs to go. After a while, he comes to a crossroads, but the decision of which way to go seems to come naturally.

Left.

Straight on.

Left.

Right, straight on,  _leftrightleftcarryonright-_

He only notices he's at a row of shops when he almost walks into one. It serves to break him out of the strange headspace he was in, the cool glass waking him up from the haze. Stunned, he stumbles backwards, only to find that it's familiar.

It's the shop, the one he'd bought the cassette from.

The memory feels like a haze, almost as if it had happened to someone else. In a way, he supposes it did. It's hard to say that he's the same person who opened the shop door, just as it's hard to say he's looking for the same Seungmin who spent so many days searching for him.

It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt to see, though.

Things were good then. He wasn't happy and he didn't appreciate what he had, but Hyunjin now would give anything to go back to the moment. He pulls his eyes away, not wanting to get too distracted from the whole point of being here, when movement in the distance catches his eye.

Too far away to see properly, walking away from him. About to turn around the corner, so far away and yet Hyunjin's heart skips a beat, his mouth is dry, and he half-thinks he's imagined the figure, but-

Maybe if he allows himself to believe...

Seungmin.

It is- it's his hair and his walk and his posture, and Hyunjin could recognise him anywhere. There's something about him that makes his stand out in any crowd, his smile dancing behind Hyunjin's eyelids. He glows in the warm air, a breath of cold wind against the stifling heat of the day. Even from the back, he's so, so beautiful.

It's  _Seungmin._

Everything he's ever wanted to say chokes his throat, filling his frozen body with unspoken promises and whispered secrets he never got to share.

Even now, seeing him so suddenly knocks the breath out of his lungs. Just like that, the world bursts into colour.

Hyunjin's voice dies in his throat. The wind seems to still, hanging in the air like the whole world has come to a halt. Everything seems to move in slow-motion. In a small corner of his mind, he can't quite believe that what he's seeing is real. The Woods had said he would be fine, but Hyunjin was still too afraid to believe them, so frightened of being lied to, of getting his hopes up only to  _see a crumpled body in front of him. Seungmin lies limp, eyes open and glassy, fingers stained with blood and ash and dust, caught in the middle of a storm that was all Hyunjin's fault._

His mind had been split in two- hope versus mistrust, pulling him apart further and further and further, until he joined his love lying broken on the gravel.

But- it doesn't matter, what he thought, what he hoped, what he prayed wouldn't be true, it didn't change a thing in the end, and Seungmin  _is here._

He's  _here,_ it's Seungmin, he's right there, so closer, Hyunjin needs to get closer, closer, closerclosercloser-

Seungmin's skin is pale. His clothes aren't ripped or torn, or ashy and muddy in any way at all. The pink welts that had decorated his arms are gone, replaced with the rightfully honey tone. He's perfect, perfectly unharmed, perfectly imperfect with every single one of his beautiful flaws. And he's so far away, so far that before Hyunjin even has the thought to call out, he's gone.

But it doesn't matter.

He's okay.

Seungmin is  _okay._

The back of his head disappears around a building, and Hyunjin doesn't hesitate to sprint after him. His legs move without him telling them to, and as soon as he realises he's moving, he pours every last drop of energy into it. The Woods didn't lie- Seungmin's okay and he's walking around normally, so his  _legs are fine again._ His hair is just as soft as in Hyunjin's dreams, so different from the damp, ashen mess he last saw.

The Woods fixed him, they fixed everything, Seungmin is okay again and everything will be alright.

Hyunjin's hands skid off the brick wall he throws himself around, using the momentum of the turn to catapult himself forward. He leaves bloody handprints on the wall, and tiny dots of gravel nestle into his cuts, but the only thing on his mind is-

"Seungmin!"

The boy turns.

There are no traces left of the blood and burns and mud and soot. He stands up straight as always, Seungmin against the world, one boy determined to change things. Nothing on his face has changed, everything as Hyunjin remembers so perfectly, every tiny flaw in his skin, the mole on his cheek, it's all so beautiful and Hyunjin's missed it all so much.

His legs are shaky. Seungmin takes a few steps towards him, and the air is charged with electricity. He can barely stand, so overwhelmed that he doesn't even realise he's crying until the tears have soaked the collar of his shirt.

Seungmin, right there in the flesh. His eye- the only thing that's different, glows pink. It's such a soft colour, so intensely Seungmin that Hyunjin falls in love with the colour a thousand times over.

It does catch him off guard, though. He's an android now, turned into metal and wires only about an hour ago. But the events in The Woods feel like they took place in a different time altogether. The memories of the trees are grainy, as if he's viewing them through a colourful filter rather than simply remembering.

Cold metal under his fingers, Seungmin's skin turning paler and smoothing out. His eye, the one that's glowing, sparkling beneath his eyelids with a beautiful pastel tint.

But the colour reminds him of whispered taunts, the other side of the deal that he'd forgotten in his rush to chase after the other boy. It sends a cold rush of shivers down his back, soaking him in freeing water. His tears are the rain, drenched from the smoke and clouds, kneeling over a body in the ruins of the house where he grew up. His breath catches in his lungs, arms shaking, head pounding, no, no,  _nononono-_

"Sorry, do I know you?"

_Your friend has paid his dues in forgetting, just as you shall pay yours by remembering._

Seungmin doesn't remember.

His eyes are blank. He doesn't remember Hyunjin. He doesn't remember Eden burning around him, the grey skies of their home stained with smoke. The In-Between, purple flowers beneath their feet as Seungmin stands up for himself and Hyunjin finally placed the unknown feeling in his chest as pride. The loud music of the roller-skating rink, pennies pressed into his palm as he tries to balance three glass bottles in his arms. The dusty apple in the wardrobe, the sun on their skin as they realise they're free.

Everything's gone. The childhood they shared, it's disappearance hurts Hyunjin more than he'd like to admit. Seungmin's mind should be filled with memories of racing down corridors, lining the furniture up from room to room, coating the kitchen in flour as they attempted to make cookies. Even the harsher memories, the sting of Jisung's words flying across the room, Hyunjin's replies equally as hurtful. The fight and everything before and after.

He doesn't remember Felix. The freckles on his skin, his deep-voice, the endless bracelets around the house.

Jisung. His heart-shaped smile, puffy cheeks, every coloured drawing where he'd tried so hard to keep between the lines.

And Hyunjin tries not to bring it back to himself, but it  _hurts._ The cassette tapes they'd found together, the music blaring as they slow-danced in the middle of the ballroom. He doesn't remember the pain, searching endlessly as Hyunjin hid so selfishly behind dusty curtains. He doesn't remember the fire, what Hyunjin can only imagine as flames licking at his skin, screaming his voice hoarse.

He doesn't remember their lips pressed together, soft in the warm air, their skin pressed together in the shade of a world they'd only dreamed of, meeting each other mouth-to-mouth in paradise.

"What? I've got to say, I didn't think I'd changed that much."

The words leave his mouth before he has a chance to realise what he's doing. The lie plasters over the pain, reshaping himself into someone else in a desperate attempt to keep Seungmin from leaving.

Seungmin frowns. "I'm sorry," he repeats, "Have we met?"

And Hyunjin laughs. He laughs to cover up the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes, to smooth over the pieces of his broken heart. "I'm not surprised you don't remember. Hwang Hyunjin- I used to be in your class?"

He sticks his hand out, but Seungmin only stares at it.

"Of course, that was a few years ago," says Hyunjin. Please,  _please_ let Seungmin believe him. He's lying through the skin of his teeth, his collar is soaked with tears and he's about five seconds away from breaking down, but he  _has_ to keep it together. Maybe something inside him still thinks that Seungmin will remember him, somewhere in the back of his mind. That he'll seem familiar, even if he doesn't know why. "Your memory always has been terrible."

And Seungmin shakes his hand. He blinks once, slowly, and then drops his arm to his side again. "I've met you before," he says. His voice is quiet, so delicate and soft that Hyunjin either wants to hug him or throw up. This isn't right. He should be confident, fiery with a passion he's only just beginning to develop. He's never been this shy or awkward, especially not with Hyunjin, and the only thought running through his mind is that this is  _all his fault._

But he only smiles. "See! I knew you'd remember eventually!"

His hand burns from where Seungmin had touched it. He can imagine tiny sparks of electricity running though his veins, and it takes everything in him not to grab Seungmin's hand again. His skin was so cold, and he wants to do everything he can to warm him up again.

Seungmin takes a step back. He glances down to the phone in his other hand, as if he's expecting something to have changed, but only sighs and looks back up again. He wants to leave, Hyunjin can tell he's uncomfortable, but he doesn't care. He can't bear to lose him again, not when he's only just found him. Instead, he desperately searches for something they can do together.

_The roller-skating rink._

It's perfect! It's where they'd gone the first time they'd visited Earth together, under the burning sun and cloudless skies. Seungmin had laughed then, he'd-  _they'd_ been so happy, and Hyunjin would give anything to re-live that memory.

He smiles.

Maybe this will work. He can see the glint in Seungmin's eyes if he tries hard enough. Past all the layers of glass, half of a boy missing, he can see the shimmer that's so, so familiar. Seungmin is still in there. He's just as lost as himself, and Hyunjin see the way he hovers close.

He doesn't want to leave his side.

He's searching for his memories just as hard as Hyunjin is.

Seungmin- Hyunjin's Seungmin, the boy with the smile and the most beautiful determination- is still in there.

If he lets himself believe, maybe he'll allow himself to hope that the rink with stir something inside Seungmin. The lost memories, maybe the glint in his eye will sparkle once more. The lights of the dance floor twinkling above them, their shoes pinching their toes, and Seungmin will smile once more.

"How would you like to go rollerskating with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm feeling the urge to write a stray kids one-shot, but i have zero (0) ideas
> 
> ALSO!! i had so many nice comments on the last chapter??? i know i've said this before, but i don't think i can accurately convey how much they mean to me. seriously. i love you all so much.


	23. Chapter 23

 

 

**THE IN-BETWEEN**

 

Chan knows as soon as Changbin brings Felix back from time.

There's a singular throb of energy that almost knocks him into the mirror, and the only reason he doesn't is because the boy - Jeongin - grabs his arm and catches him. He felt the surge too, but it's so much weaker for him with the mirrors to stabilise the power. It surrounds them and then leaves so quickly, that it breaks Jeongin's concentration, and the reflection in front of them shatters into a billion shards of light. But for a second, Chan is falling towards Woojin.

The boy he shouldn't know.

But he does. He recognises his face from somewhere he didn't know existed, just like how he'd known the bracelet was in his pocket before he'd even reached his hand inside. It's the same feeling, the flush in his cheeks and the beating of his heart. His mind is giddy for no reason at all, and try as he might, he can't help but feel like there's something he's missing.

What had Jeongin said?

A list of names that shouldn't have been familiar but  _were,_ Minho and Seungmin and Woojin and Jeongin and- how did he know this?

His head hurts.

More than the dull warmth of his glowing eye. It's past his mind, in a place he's never felt before. Woojin's smile lingers behind his eyelids- which should be impossible because he'd only seen the boy for a few seconds and he'd looked pretty sad the whole time, but it is. It's just  _there,_ making him feel emotions that he can't place. There's so much going on, and it's so overwhelming, but-

"I need to leave."

Jeongin looks up in shock, and Chan's taken aback yet again by how young he looks. He seems so innocent and out of place, big eyes that Chan can't help but feel he's seen before. There are so many questions he needs to ask him, and he wants to trust him, he really does, but there's simply too much happening at once. This will have to wait.

"You can't leave!" Jeongin protests. One of his hands has made its way to his jumper, pulling in the fabric like a child. "Please,  _please_. You remembered him, right? Woojin?"

But Chan shakes him off and stands up straight. The glowing of his eye has died down by now, the crimson fading from his vision until he can see properly again. He doesn't  _want_ to leave. He wants to stay here, with this strange boy that's convinced they've met before, and the reflection of someone who he knows he should remember. He wants to find out about the bracelet and Earth and everything else that-

He shouldn't think like that.

He hasn't been lied to. There's a rational explanation for this somewhere, he just hasn't found it yet.

"There are more important things I have to do."

Jeongin scoffs. The panic has morphed into anger, and when he stands up to face Chan, his eyes are shimmering with the same purple he'd seen when he's cast the reflection through the mirror, the same shade as when they'd felt Changbin take back Felix. There's no denying he's the last member of the Fated Three, even if he isn't Jisung.

"More important? There's nothing more important than this. You've been  _lied_ to, they took you from us, and now you're leaving again?"

"I'll come back."

" _That's what you said last time._ " And just like that, Jeongin crumbles. All that resolve abandons him, and in the remains of his anger, Chan can see what he truly is. Scared. Alone. It hurts, it hurts so much to leave him here when every bone in his body tells him that he should be protecting him, but-

He needs to go.

When Changbin pulled Felix back, the rush of power through his body had almost knocked him over. It was stronger than it was supposed to be for such a short trip, leaving the taste of iron in the back of his throat and making his head spin. The flavour wasn't right, and Chan can feel that nothing's changed since the trip. Whatever Felix was sent back to do, he failed.

And yet, he feels the same build-up of power inside him.

Changbin's sending someone back again- despite  _knowing_ he's too weak. The power will drain him, sapping him of all his energy until he falls into a sort of coma. Already, there's the beginning of a sting through their bond, the ghost of blood dripping from his nose and the faint blur of light-headedness.

Changbin, Chan has decided, is an idiot. He's pushing himself past his limits, and putting not only himself but  _Felix_ in danger as well. There are so many risks of being displaced in time, so many dangerous side-effects that it's a miracle Changbin even considered sending the younger boy back. It's no secret that he's got a soft spot for him.

And yet still, he's putting his life in danger. They're both too blind to see how much could go wrong. They can't see that it's not just the past that affects everyone, but also what happens to them afterwards. Felix's body isn't made for this kind of pressure, and if anything happens to him, Chan can only imagine how Seungmin and Hyunjin would feel. If Changbin's mind simply decides it can't take the strain any longer, then...

Chan doesn't even want to think about what that would mean.

They'd be back at the beginning. All this work wasted, Chan and Jeongin lost to The Woods that would no longer have any need for them. The Fated Three that they'd worked so hard to create would crumble, the last few stable minutes of the universe slipping beneath their fingers.

"I'll come back." It's all he can think to say, a pathetic repetition of what he'd said before. Talking to Jeongin, leaving him behind like this, it seems  _wrong._ He feels like he should know how to speak to him, and his instincts are screaming at him to sit down and talk it through, but he pushes past it. There's just not enough time. "Jeongin, there's too much to explain right now. I want to stay,  _I do,_ but-"

"Take me with you!"

"What?"

Jeongin grabs Chan's sleeve again, not letting him pull away this time. "Take me with you. Please, I don't mind whatever, but  _please, don't leave._ "

Chan pries his fingers off, one by one. It hurts, the betrayal in Jeongin's eyes as he gets closer and closer to giving up. This goes against everything Chan stands for, and-  _God, why can't Jeongin see that he doesn't want to do this just as much as him?_ Can't he see that this is for Changbin and Felix? Can't he see that Chan's trying to save everyone?

" _Don't leave,"_ says Jeongin, but his voice is shaky and he's already sunk to his knees in defeat. He sounds so broken, and everything in Chan in at war inside himself to stay and comfort him. He knows this boy, he  _does and he's so sure of it,_ but he's got to help Changbin and Felix, because he can't afford to lose them either, and why does everything have to happen at once when all he wants is to make sure that he can help everyone?

"You already know I can't do that."

"Please.  _Please, Chan, please don't leave, please-"_

 _"_ Don't follow me." As soon as the words leave his mouth, he can see Jeongin's heart break a little more. He's sorry, he really is, but as he turns and walks away, he finds that he can't bring himself to look back. Even with Jeongin's quiet sniffs, he keeps his head up and continues walking towards the portal he's created in front of him. It hurts, it breaks his heart, and all he can think of is school lunches for some reason, but-

If he looks back now, he won't be able to start walking again.

"I'm sorry," he says, just loud enough that he knows Jeongin's heard. Then he steps into the shimmering air, hoping that the force of arriving in Eden will dry the tear-tracks on his cheeks.  
  
  
  


**THE IN-BETWEEN**

 

Jeongin almost can't believe it.

After all this time, after all the searching and pain, Chan's... gone.

Just like that, he'd walked without even turning back. As if Jeongin didn't exist. He's stepped right through that portal and disappeared, and  _he'd wanted to._

He'd wanted to leave him behind, all alone in an unfamiliar world, because he had better things to do than look after snivelling children.

Jeongin's hands are shaking, his breathing is so quick, and yet he's so frustrated because  _he can't even do anything about it._ He's stuck here crying, useless as ever. Maybe he is the baby everyone treats him like, because all he does is act like one. He opens his mouth to scream, but he chokes on his tongue, and just ands up punching the ground in anger.

It hurts.

But there's clarity in the pain. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, biting his lip and focusing on his thoughts.

Right.

_Right._

He needs to calm down. Slowly, he evens off his breathing, flexing and unflexing his fingers with each rise and fall of his chest. He channels all his thoughts into the surroundings, taking in every movement of the grass around him, the clouds floating across the sky, the cool breeze tugging at his hair.

There's no reason to get hysterical.

This reminds him of the time one of his little brothers broke the TV, and as the oldest, it had been on him to make sure everyone was okay. He'd panicked, sure, but he'd managed to push through it because there was so much more at stake. If he could apply that same levelheadedness he'd had then to the situation, now, then surely he'd work out what to do.

Breathe.

Chan is being a massive dickhead.

There's no way around it. Meeting someone who's basically your little brother for the first time since you disappeared? Yeah, immediately running away isn't the best response.

But, Jeongin understands.

Sure, it hurts. Sure, he's been betrayed. Sure, it feels like someone's taken a sledgehammer to his heart, lit it on fire and then fed the pieces to Minho's evil cats, but he understands.

But now that his mind his clearer, his breathing has slowed down, and he can finally start to think about how he's going to follow Chan. There's no way he's staying here- it's simply not the type of person he is. There's no reason for him to stay, when Chan's so close and he's just as strong as anyone else.

Now, all he has to do is work out how to get one of those sparkly portal things, jump right in and bam, arrive in Eden.

What had Chan done? There hadn't been a magic word or anything, and Jeongin wasn't about to embarrass himself by yelling 'abracadabra'. Even if there was no one else here, he can practically see his reflection judging him. Maybe if he really concentrates, harnesses the same warm feeling that he'd felt when he'd first joined Fated Three. He squeezes his eyes shut, concentrating as hard as he can.

There's got to be some way of doing this. He tries to focus on the purple. It runs through his veins even without him concentrating, just waiting for the chance to bubble to the surface. He digs his nails into his palms, trying to make the power do... something. It's there, it's so strong that it brings tears to his eyes, but there's nothing he can do to control it. Every time he so much as attempts to picture the portal in his mind, it slips through his fingers.

Behind the violet is the slightest hint of orange. He frowns, concentrating on that colour instead, and-

There's the problem.

Every time he reaches for the purple, tries to picture it surrounding his body with power and splitting the fabric of reality open, it shies away from his touch. The layer of orange intertwined throughout it tangles with his fingers. It stops him from moving any further, digging into his skin like barbed wire, trapping him inside of himself until he can't move, can't see, can't  _breathe can't breathe can't breathehelphelphelp-_

It snaps.

Suddenly, he's wheezing on the grass, choking on air in a desperate attempt to get his breath back. His palms are flat on the ground, sinking into the soft mud, but his eyes are streaming too badly to see how dirty they're getting. It takes a while to make the black spots in his eyes disappear, but he gets there eventually. After the pounding in his head has quietened down, he can finally try and realign his thoughts.

It doesn't take a genius to work out that something had gone very wrong.

Whether it's from inexperience or something darker, he's simply not strong enough. His eyelids are heavy enough from the exhaustion of trying once, and he knows that if he attempts again, he'll end up passed out on the grass. It's definitely not because he's too scared of what'll happen if the orange didn't let him go, because that would be stupid.

It doesn't really matter the reason, anyway. When it comes down to it, all it means is that he's going to have to find a new way of leaving. There aren't any convenient portals, but there's _got_  to be another way.

Maybe through a mirror?

That seems to be the only thing he's good at. Picking himself up from the soggy grass, he stares into the reflection again, hoping upon hopes that it'll show him something he doesn't already know. Eden, maybe. Or a nice Ikea-esque printed out instruction sheet on how to build your very own tear in the universe.

But there's no such luck. Instead, he's met with a fluffy cloud and blue skies that are turning more and more grey by the minute. The sun catches the edge of the mirror, blinding him for a second. On instinct, he raises his arm to cover his face, squinting through the bright light. The outline of The Woods burns itself into the back of his eyelids, the last thing he saw before the sun decided to be a little bitch.

Hang on.

Jeongin doesn't know how he didn't think of this earlier.

He peels his hand away from his eyes, grinning at the trees around him. That's right! He'd gotten here by walking through the forest, from Earth nonetheless. And if Earth was connected to the trees, then it's almost guaranteed that there's a path to Eden.

Before he can convince himself out of it, he starts to walk. The trees quickly envelop him, blocking out all view of the field. It's warmer here, by the border between lands, and the thought reassures him. He's done this before. He'll be fine.

There are so many better things he could be thinking about now, instead of worrying. Like what's the best thing to say that'll make Chan feel guilty, but not like a failure. How he's going to explain to everyone that there's been a path to another world down an alleyway this whole time. He even pictures Minho's smug smile dropping off his face once Chan gets him to explain what's wrong and go back to school. It makes him smile.

But the good feeling doesn't last. Too caught up in the thought of everything being back to normal again, he glances back, hoping to get at least one reassuring look at the sparkling mirrors. And the grin slips off his face. It's as if they were never there. All he can see is branches and leaves.

The thought makes his stomach hurt. Even now, only a few metres into the foliage, there's no way he'd be able to make his way back. The path he'd started walking down has disappeared from beneath his feet, melting into the dead leaves until he's not certain there was ever a path in the first place.

The warm temperature, which had been so comforting, has dropped several degrees. He doesn't realise he's shivering until he notices frost on the ground, clinging to the bark of the trees, and realises he can see his breath in the air. The sky is cloudy above his head, so far away from familiar blue skies of Earth, that it makes him dizzyingly homesick. It's not until he manages to convince himself that this just means he's getting closer to Eden, that he can take another step.

But he's not scared, that would be stupid.

It's just this dark because of the clouds, it's just this cold because it's not Earth, it's just this quiet because the leaves are listening.

They're not listening.

There's a hum around him, deeper than any animal could make, and shaking the ground beneath his feet. It doesn't stop for breath or increase in volume. There's no growling, even if the leaves on the branches sing back in resonance.  It's simply there.

Jeongin takes a step forward. He hadn't even realised he'd stopped walking, but now every step feels like he's got the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's like walking through treacle, except it's so cold and his thoughts are paralysed with- something that's not fear, he's not scared.

This was a mistake.

Goddamn, this was a mistake. He should have never of come, because the low rumble isn't predatory. It's the cold of anger, detached from all human emotion and morphed into something much darker.

Fury. So bright that it's burning white. So hot that it's cold.

The Woods is angry.

He shouldn't have come here. Why couldn't he ever leave things alone? Why did he always have to prove that he wasn't weak or a baby, why didn't anyone believe him anyway? Why couldn't he have just swallowed his pride and waited for Chan?

And now, every tree burns. They know, they've worked it out. They've seen right past his shitty lies and into the truth he'd so desperately hidden. He feels so ill, so sick to his stomach, because they know he's nothing more than an imposter for- for  _Jisung._

Perfect Jisung. The person he can't be, the boy who's place he'd stolen. Jisung, who everyone seems to care about more than themselves, Jisung who's probably never had to go to school hungry, or duct-tape his trainers together, or  _lose one of his closest friends only to be abandoned when he finally found him again._

He's nothing but a fake, a replacement for Jisung who he'd stolen the position from anyway. There's no surprise that it was never supposed to be him, because who would want a liar in the three supposed to save the universe? The Woods has finally worked out why he remembers, why the mirrors respond, why he can't even do anything as simple as make a portal.

The Woods is angry.

And Jeongin knows why.  
  


 

**THE IN-BETWEEN**

 

"Where are we?"

Minho's eyes are wide. His hand is on Jisung's shoulder, digging in uncomfortably, but Jisung can't bring himself to complain. Where their skin meets, he's on fire. It's bright, burning so beautifully, and yet it's nothing like the heat that had consumed Seungmin. It's nothing like the great flames of anger that he'd kept inside of himself for so long, and yet it gives him the same rush of excitement.

It's  _Minho._

When his hand brushes against Jisung's, it's as if his whole body is incinerated in a second.

Minho.

It's so unknown, and yet Jisung isn't scared at all. The older boy steals his breath away, graceless beauty that he'd been so sure would turn away, but he  _hadn't._ Everything Jisung knows about being left alone, everything he's pieced together about friendship from those burning dreams, and yet Minho doesn't seem to care.

He's not afraid of him. He's not Felix, with big eyes and trembling hands, and the  _cruellest smile beneath all those lies about forgetting, just to see Jisung bleed a little more._

He's not dependant. He's not Seungmin, with his head stuck up someone else's ass and a mocking grin, and  _too obsessed to care about the hatred, returning one last time with salt and lemon for the cuts on Jisung's soul._

He's not angry. He's not Hyunjin, ethereal beauty and pitiful smiles, and  _cold manipulation driving him further and further away, turning them against him with poisonous words, edging Jisung to reply and then playing the victim._

Minho's different.

He's strong. He'd spoken up for himself, hadn't been afraid to accuse Felix or to ask questions. He hadn't cared about the blood on Jisung's hands, and for the first time in forever, he'd been  _kind._

Jisung had almost forgotten what that word meant.

But now it's okay, even though he's still hurt, he's still empty, but Minho is his friend, and that's more of a beginning than he's ever had before. When he squeezes his shoulder, the feeling is so addictive that Jisung never wants him to let go.

Vaguely, he tries to remember the last time someone touched him.

Not even skin-to-skin, but the slightest brush of contact. Hyunjin, Seungmin, they barely remembered he existed long enough to stop yelling at him.

But that doesn’t matter. He’s not in Eden anymore, he’s here somewhere much better, and he’s going to make Hyunjin pay for every year of torture he out him through. All he has to do, is find him.

“The In-Between.”

Minho’s mouth moves around the words silently, still taking in the sight. Purple flowers, blue sky, large field dotted with huge circular mirrors. It all looks so beautiful, like something out of one of his fairy-tale dreams.

Jisung hates it.

He wants to leave as soon as he can. The existence of this place- it taunts him. Every second he spent trapped alone in an empty house, just dreaming of being able to run through fields like this. Such a simple dream, and yet it was torn up in front of his eyes, again and again and again. Now, the sight just makes him slightly ill.

Find Hyunjin, and then leave. That’s all he needs to do. Then they can leave.

“Come on,” says Jisung. He pulls away from Minho, silently mourning the loss of contact, and starts making his way over to the closest of the mirrors. Even from this distance, he can feel the raw power they possess. It’s dark, so unstable, drawing him in like a black hole. Again, he thinks how nice it would to just leave.

But he has to find Hyunjin.

“What do they do?” Minho’s one step ahead of Jisung needing to explain. He’s already worked out that they’re here for the mirrors, and kneels down next to one, peering into the reflection. Jisung can tell that the same force pushes him away as well, the inside of their minds screaming at them that it’s too dangerous.

“The Woods,” says Jisung, “Told me they can see anywhere. If we look through, we’ll be able to see Hyunjin.” 

Minho frowns. “It’s that simple?”

It’s not.

It’s really not.

Jisung knows something went wrong. He’s not stupid, and when The Woods told him that there was an imbalance in The In-Between, it didn’t take much to put two and two together. Though the leaves didn’t know what had caused it, during the recruitment of the third member of the Fated Three, the carefully put-together equality had crumbled.

Suddenly, what had almost been so perfect was tilted towards Earth. The mirrors, from what Jisung understood, were peep-holes into that world. Where the fabric of reality was weaker, you could just about push through.

The only problem was that it only works for one person.

The third boy, and judging by the fact that he’s not here to help them, Jisung’s pretty sure he’s not willing. The Woods have their ways, and The Woods get what they want. The fact that the mirrors are working for them now means that the third boy must have come to the right conclusion, eventually.

But Jisung’s not about to tell Minho that. He’s not sure why, but he doesn’t want Minho to know. He’s not about to risk his first friendship, not over something so trivial, so when Minho asks if it’s that simple, he simply replies with “Yeah.”

He kneels next to Minho, so close that their thighs are almost brushing. His face joins Minho’s in the reflection, simply waiting for something to happen. The trees around them wave in the wind, they know they’re here, so it’s just a waiting game.

The reflection flickers. There's nothing, and then there's their frozen faces staring back at them, and then it's so blurry he can barely see past the white mist. The trees that border the field creak with the strain, and Jisung knows he should feel back for the poor boy who they're forcing to do this, but-

There's nothing.

His emotions are the same as the mirror in front of him: so tangled up it's impossible to see anything past the overwhelming numbness. He knows there should be something there, but there's not, and as soon as he reaches out to the void, he's filled with red.

Burning anger, through his veins and his mind and  _how could he have forgotten what Hyunjin did to him? He's so angry, so sick with an insatiable desire for revenge that there's no room for anything else, and Jisung can't remember what he was looking for in the first place._

"Jisung?"

Minho's voice brings him back to reality. Jisung's slightly breathless, head spinning, eyes tinted with red but even that's not enough to stop him from noticing that the cloudiness of the mirror has gone. The reflection can't seem to make its mind up between the sky of The In-between and Earth. There're a few seconds of flickering between them, before the purple at the edge of the view pulses once, and disappears.

And finally, Jisung sees Hyunjin.

Earth is just as warm as it was when Jisung left, and the leaves at the edges of the reflection are drooping with lack of water. The tarmac wavers in the sunlight. The blue sky is so bright, even if they can only see a slither, past the large building taking up most of the picture. There are large funky letters declaring it to be a roller-skating rink, but a few are missing and the rest are coating in peeling paint. The actual building itself doesn't look too great either; the bricks are stained dark with something unidentifiable, and although there are windows, they're too grimy to see anything more than a blur.

It's all so fake, new layers of paint plastered over old, but Jisung can't quite tear his eyes away. Again, there's the brief glimmer of something he can't place, a strange desire for something he doesn't know, but it's quickly gone.

Red, why would there be anything other than red.

Hyunjin stands leaning against the wall. He's just at the side of the view, and Jisung can't help but wonder why. They could be looking through anywhere. If the mirror was moved a few inches to the left, he'd practically be centre. He's got his head turned, mouth moving and hands reaching out to someone unknown to receive a pile of coins. It's not clear who, but the thought is red.

Hyunjin is smiling.

He's grinning with his teeth and everything, head thrown back at something the person they can't see has said, and his eyes crease up into little half-moons.

Jisung wants to scream.

It's like nothing has even happened. Hyunjin's carrying on his life like always, as if nothing Jisung has ever done meant anything to him. As if nothing has changed. He's happy, he doesn't care what he's done to everyone else, he's just fucked off to Earth and left without even thinking of what happened to the people he left behind. Stupid, selfish Hyunjin.

Seungmin had burnt for him.

He'd screamed and screamed, and Jisung had been so red, and it had all been for nothing because Hyunjin didn't care anyway. He got his freedom, and that was all he wanted. Everything else was just collateral damage.  _Seungmin_ was just collateral damage.

It hurts. Fuck, it hurts, the thoughts bubbling inside him like acid, and they're so red that he can hardly breathe. He's so ready to scream, out of frustration or something else, and the only thing holding him back is Minho.

His hand against Jisung's, rubbing circles into his palm. So soft, so delicate and light that it makes him want to cry. Where was this feeling the rest of his life? The warmth, the knowledge that someone cares even a little bit, it's so bright and yellow that it drowns at the red, just for a second.

Forget about Hyunjin.

_He doesn't want the red._

There's a second of silence, his mind free-falling, clamouring for footholds, for  _anything,_ and then it's gone. He's forgotten what he was thinking of, again.

Minho seems to sense the change in mood, as he starts talking to break the silence. "I know this place," he says, and his voice is low with wonder. Of course he does, the town is only so big after all, but maybe he hadn't believed that the reflection would show anything other than clouds after all.

In the mirror, Hyunjin laughs again, and Jisung's blood boils.

"Take me there."

"What?"

Jisung looks up. That's where Hyunjin is, that's where Minho can take him, and maybe the anger in his veins will finally be satisfied. "Take me there." Minho knows his way around better than Jisung ever could, probably knows every path like the back of his hand. They're saving so much time this way, everything falling into place.

Minho looks at him, with an indecipherable look. His face is as cold as always, but his eyes are so,  _so warm._ His hands haven't stopped moving once, and he squeezes Jisung's before standing up. "Earth," he says, and his voice shakes the tiniest bit.

"Minho?"

And he smiles. It takes Jisung's breath away, sends him free-falling again, washing the red away for the smallest of moments. "Come on, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've said it before and i'll say it again!!! happiness is coming!!! eventually!!!!!!
> 
> also, if you're going off the loona colour theory: theres no meaning behind the red for jisung. he's not connevted to kim lip in anyway, i just didn't think that grey was angry enough to work properly


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i managed to delete half of this chapter by accident 🤡🤡🤡

 

 

**UNKNOWN - THE WOODS**

 

Felix knows what to expect this time, so when the wave of nausea attempts to knock him off of his feet, he closes his eyes and waits it out. Just like before, it's gone as soon as it has arrived, leaving only the slightly soured taste of pineapples against his lips.

He shivers.

It's cold, colder than the rainy skies of Eden. There's a chilling wind that bites through his clothes, tearing at his skin. His eyes are still screwed shut, waiting for his mind to step off the rollercoaster, but when he stumbles forwards in an attempt to find his balance, there's the tell-tale crunch of snow beneath his feet.

Snow?

It's cold, so cold, but he wasn't expecting snow. Shouldn't this be The Woods? That was what Changbin had told him- or was it just what he had assumed? It was no surprise that the weather's different here, but surely snow and ice is a bit over the top. Either way, as soon as the nausea has ebbed away, his eyes fly open to check.

It is.

The world is frozen.

The ground beneath his feet is completely solid, the soil turned black from a complete lack of life. There's a thick layer of snow and ice over most of it, but the bare ground peeks through in places. Amongst the rocks lie a few- crystals? He bends down to pick one up, suddenly aware of the numbness in his toes, only to realise the crystals are  _diamonds._

What are they doing here?

It's not like there are only a few either- from here, he must be able to see hundreds of the precious gems, all lying discarded in the snow.

And that's not the strangest thing either. He spins around to check, and sure enough, the only thing that breaks up the endless landscape is the carcass of an airplane. Most of it is missing, revealing the cold metal insides to the world, and he's too far away to make out the words but there's various styles of graffiti painted onto the outside. He squints, stumbling forwards again, but even the graffiti is made up of greys and whites.

It's almost as if the colour has been drained away, leaving behind only very pale blues and delicate whites. There are huge mountains in the distance, but they're shrouded in pale mist. There's the airplane, but it's long empty and bleached like it's been out in the sun too long. The only thing that isn't filtered down is the deep black of the soil, and when he looks closer, even that is covered with a thin layer of tiny ice crystals.

Where is he?

It's a good question. He doesn't think Earth has ever been this cold, The In-Between is limited to a field, and he knows- knew - Eden like the back of his hand. There aren't any trees, so it can't be The Woods.

It makes his head hurt to think about. It doesn't matter where he is, really. That's the sort of thing Old-Felix would worry about, when all New-Felix needs to do is figure out how to stop Chan, and then get home. Where he is doesn't affect that it anyway, so he forces himself to stop thinking about it.

It's just as well.

Behind him, there's the low rumble of an engine. The rest of the world is frozen and silent, so the roar of the truck is deafening. Felix spins around. There- the sound- it  _has_ to be something to do with Chan.

About twenty metres away, there's a yellow truck. It's so bright against the faded landscape, and Felix almost raises his hand to shield his eyes from the colour. The engine hums again, speeding up to travel over a particularly large bump in the road. It's not far away that Felix can't make out who's driving, but the sight only leaves him more confused.

There's no one there.

The driver's seat is empty, the steering wheel moving by itself as if that was completely normal. Although he's never seen one in person, Felix has read about cars, and he  _knows_ this isn't normal. Possible, even. There's a slight movement in the passenger that he catches out of the corner of his eye, and he realises two things at the same time.

One, that Chan's in the truck. The movement, combined with the vehicle turning to the side, he could suddenly see through the window. Even from this distance, he can make out Chan's face pressed against the glass, eyes shut, frowning slightly. His hair is different, Felix notices, darker and pressed flat to his head. It looks slightly strange compared to the blond curls he's used to.

Two, that the truck is moving away.

Felix is running before he even realises his legs are moving.

His feet catch on the snow briefly, and he stumbles, but not for long. Soon enough, he's sprinting as fast as he can. That truck- that he's chance at getting to Chan. If he can stop it, it even just get the older boy's attention, maybe then he can persuade him to leave. All he needs to do is catch up.

But he's never been the most athletic person. He'd danced with Hyunjin a few times, sure, but there was never enough space in Eden to properly  _run._ Before long, his legs begin to protest, tripping over the snow again and again. All his blood has rushed to his head, beating his skull in time with the pounding of his heart. He can barely hear anything over the rush of blood to his ears.

He can't stop.

He can't, not when he's this close to solving everything, not when everything is resting on his shoulders. After this, there might not be a second chance. He can't stop. He can't.

"Chan!"

It's useless- his voice is never going to carry through the metal doors of the truck, and even if it did, the roar of the engine drowns out everything he says. But it's better than doing nothing. He's so desperate for Chan to look up, so desperate for him to notice his cries and stop the car,  _but he doesn't._

"Chan!" His voice is torn from his throat by the wind, and he gets the feeling that shouting is pointless. That even is Chan could hear him, he wouldn't pay any attention. "Chan! Please, look up!"

He doesn't.

His face remains pressed up against the window, the truck keeps moving, and Felix keeps getting further and further away. He's being pulled back. No matter how fast he runs, he only keeps losing ground, watching as Chan disappears into the distance.

The engine of the truck growls, letting the vehicle pick up speed. It's too far away, and Felix knows he's never going to reach it at this point, but he can't give up. He can't stop this easily, not when he's got so much to prove. He's got to show that New-Felix is capable, that there was a point in changing everything after all.

There's a tug on his shoulder.

Felix almost goes to turn around, but who could be tapping him? There's no one else here, and certainly no one else running beside him. Instead, he tries to ignore the feeling. "Chan!" He yells, digging his nails into his palms out of frustration when the sound is drowned out by the wind.

It pulls at his jacket, slowing him down even more. It's practically impossible to run against, sweeping up the snow around his feet and blowing the crystals of ice into his eyes. They rub his skin raw, making it so hard to see past the swirling mist of white.

He hadn't realised how cold it was, either. Despite the warmth in his face, he's losing feeling in his toes, making it harder and harder to move his feet. They're so heavy already, dragging behind him as if they were never part of his body.

But there's no stopping, no chance to do anything except push on and on, hoping that Chan will look back, trying to use every last drop of energy when he's getting more and more tired with every second that passes. He can't stop, not now, not when he has to keep goi-

The world tumbles to a halt.

He's falling, the sudden jolt of vertigo hitting his brain before his legs have even stopped moving. There's ground beneath his feet- and then suddenly there isn't. Everything comes crashing down from under him, a sick rush of adrenaline in his gut, his arms coming out to protect his body. Tumbling to the ground, feet frozen in place a few steps behind the rest of him.

When he hits the ground, he hits it hard.

It's cold. The snow begins to soak through his clothes without delay, and his body aches with the impact. It  _hurts._ The ground is so cold, and yet so sharp with black rocks he hadn't even noticed before digging into his skin. It's cold, the numbness of the ice pressing back some of the pain, but the shock of the fall still brings tears to his eyes.

Chan.

He wants to lie here. He wants to cry, and lie here for a while in the cold of winter, but he  _can't_.

He's got to find Chan.

Gritting his teeth, Felix pushes himself up. The hem of his jacket is caught in the ground, somewhere around the back that he can't easily untangle, and so he simply scrambles out of the fabric and leaves it on the ground. There's no time to stop. There's no time to hesitate. There's no time to-

He's running already, before what his eyes are seeing has caught up with the rest of his body. His legs keep moving even as he realises that the truck is gone.

Gone.

With Chan in it, and his chance at making everything right.

Even as he scans the horizon, knowing that  _logically Chan can't be gone, there's no way he could move that fast,_ there's nothing there. The truck- bright yellow against the pale sky- has disappeared. It doesn't make sense, he'd only been on the ground for a few seconds, but there's no denying it.

Chan's gone.

Felix stands in an empty world of snow and ice.

What does he do now? Surely, surely, he can't be too late, surely that's  _impossible._ Chan's got to be somewhere; he just has to work out where. There's only so many places he could be, if he thinks about it logically.

The mountains are too far away, still swirling with snow even though the wind has stopped. They're hazy in the distance, slightly out of focus, and he knows that they're definitely not of any importance. Felix has only known The Woods for a while, but he sees through mind games easily. It's a trait of Old-Felix, one that he'd told himself to ignore, but... there's no choice, really.

The truck, maybe. The fact that there was no driver, the colour so bright against the rest of the landscape, it could mean something. If only it hadn't disappeared.

That only leaves one place.

Maybe Felix knew it would be the airplane all along. His legs have already started moving, leaving his jacket and the imprint of his body in the snow far behind. The metal carcass, something so beautiful and delicate that doesn't belong, seems to call him. Without realising, he picks up the pace, moving from a jog to a full-on sprint.

Chan.

He's got to be there- this is his last hope, his last chance.

The airplane gets closer and closer, and surely Felix hadn't spent that long on the ground, because the closer he gets the more obvious it becomes that no one's there.

He's-

He's too late.

He can see a catapult on the ground in front of him, but there's no one there to hold it. The elastic is soaked from the snow, stretched so far out of proportion that it's become effectively useless. Felix's knees still ache, but the doesn't stop him from launching himself towards it.

The movement isn't graceful or delicate, tripping over his shoes again and stumbling more than once, but he's much too desperate to care. No, oh no, oh no  _no no._ He ends up crouched over it, the snow burning his already cold skin, hands shaking as he picks it up.

It's warm.

The wooden stick in the middle hums with energy, the remaining heat from when Chan dropped it seeping into his cold bones. It was used recently.

He failed.

Felix looks up, the catapult still clenched in his hands, No, no  _no no,_ he promised Changbin he would be successful this time, it can't end like this. Chan's disappeared, but that doesn't mean he's gone, does it? Surely, he could just be hiding? There's nothing out here except a barren wasteland, surely Felix would have seen him accept his place in the Fated Three.

There's no way- when could it have happened? He hadn't spent that long on the ground when he'd tripped, even when he'd thrown the jacket away, it had only taken a few seconds. How had he managed to lose Chan so easily? He'd been right there- and then he  _wasn't_ and he'd just  _disappeared._

Surely, he hasn't failed.

Please, someone tell him that he hasn't failed.

But already, out of the corner of his eye, just a few metres away from where he'd found the catapult lies a pile of feathers. His breath catches in his throat. No, no  _no,_ but he's already scrambling back across the snow, hands raw and pink, cheeks burning from his tears, sobbing into the frozen air.

His knees scream in protest, because at some point throwing himself down, he's managed to tear a hole in his jeans. The frozen ice seeps past his skin and into his bones, and with a startling realisation, Felix notices a smeared trail of red behind him. Through the hole in his trousers, his skin has torn with the fabric. His legs are too numb to feel the pain, but it's red and so  _bright_  against the pale landscape that it just makes the tears fall from his eyes even faster.

Oh, no no  _no._

This can't be happening. He can't have failed so easily.

The catapult falls from his fingers, discarded in favour of his shaking hands cupping around the small pile of feathers. They're so pale, barely visible against the harsh white of the snow, and so  _tiny._ They seem to glow with the black rocks around him, peeking through the layers of ice, and with trembling fingers he realises he's stained them red with his blood.

Chan-

What had happened here?

There's a diamond in front of him, sharpened to a point and glinting in the cold air. The feathers, and the fact that Felix can't deny that Chan's disappeared any longer. There weren't any footsteps before Felix had crawled over, and then there was the added confusion of the catapult. What had Chan done here? What had happened.

Slowly, Felix stands up.

His legs are shaky, knee still dripping with fat droplets of blood, but at this point he's slightly thankful for the cold. It's starting to wear away at his arms, his toes slowly warming up again. In the back of him mind, he knows that's probably not a good thing, and the cut on his knee should sting, but he can't see any blue on his fingers past the stained green, so he can't bring himself to care.

There's nothing here, except for snow and rocks and the feathers, which he tucks into his pocket for safe-keeping. Chan's truck, the one with no driver, is still there, but Felix's jacket has already been buried despite the fact that it isn't snowing. He takes a step forward, half-heartedly considering going to get it, before deciding against it.

It's so cold, he doesn't want to move anymore.

And besides, Changbin should be pulling him back any second now.

So he waits. The tears have stopped coming, he realises, but there are tiny crystals in his hair. The rain from Eden has frozen into thick clumps, pressing down into his scalp, and just making him wish that Changbin would hurry up. He doesn't want to be here anymore. Chan's gone, Felix knows he fails, and every second he stays is another that he's reminded of what he'd promised he'd do.

But the feeling is mostly numb. The cold is taking bites out of his soul as well as his fingers, and Felix knows he should be more upset about his failure than this. There'd been a flicker of emotion when he'd found the catapult, but now that desperation is nowhere to be seen, and he just  _wants to go home._

Maybe when he's back, when he's warmed up a bit, he'll be hit with a sudden rush. Knowing he's a failure, a disappointment, that he's just as useless as New-Felix as he was as Old-Felix means nothing to him now, but he knows that it  _should._

Around him, the wind picks up a bit.

There's no jacket to protect him this time, and the biting chill goes straight through him. It was already cold, but this, this is unbearable. With every gust, snow swirls around his legs, climbing higher and higher until he can't see anything through the ice crystals in his eyes. They cut at his already raw skin, tearing like tiny knives. Where his fingers are tinged with green, the skin there turns an ugly mottled pink.

He can't stay here any longer.

He wants to go home, but he's stuck because  _where's Changbin, he just wants to go home._

He's stuck here, every second reminding him of what a failure he is, how he's ruined everything, how it's his fault that the universe is falling apart, how he deserves the colour staining his arms.

But before he knows it, he's moving. Stumbling backwards, trying to find shelter from the icy wind. The truck is too far away, and wither way, the ice hanging in the air has created a fog that he can't see through. There's only one way to head. When his back hits the cold metal of the airplane, he almost sobs in relief. With one hand behind him to make sure he's heading in the right direction, he feels along the metal carcass, stumbling inside when he eventually locates the door.

There's immediate relief from the snowstorm outside. His arms sting from the lack of protection, rubbed red from the force of the gale. His knee is still bleeding, the last few drops of blood crusting against his trousers.

Felix is a mess.

It's so cold, and he's so tired, and he just wants to go home really, why won't Changbin  _just take him home already._

He already knows that he failed, what's the point in keeping him here just to rub it in his face. Rationally, he knows it's not Changbin's fault, that the older boy would never abandon him here on purpose, but it's so hard to believe that, when all he wants to do is curl up into a ball and cry.

His legs give out from beneath him, the cold having finally reached his knees. There's nothing to grab onto to support himself, so he ends up slumped against the cold wall of the airplane, desperately trying to work feeling back into his toes.

He's so  _tired._

It's so cold, and he's tired, and please, all he wants to do is go home. Please, just let him go home. It's getting harder and harder to move his fingers, and his eyelids keep closing even when he tries to keep them open. Everything is so  _heavy._ His limbs drag him down, pulling him into oblivion, slowly rubbing out all his thoughts until all he knows it how much he wants to go home.

There are tear tracks down his cheeks, choking back tired sobs. His eyes unfocus, his head dropping to the side, too heavy to hold up for any longer. The last few drops of blood on his knee have crusted to his trousers.

He's so tired.

Please, he just wants to be warm-

And he is.

There's the unfurling of heat in his stomach, fingers reaching down his spine with tips of fire. They push the tingling of feeling down towards his toes, bathing him in warmth, letting him slip even further into the sleep he'd trying to avoid. Changbin. It's him, it's the feeling of being brought back, and Felix doesn't care because he just wants to go home.

Pineapple fills his mouth. Sharp and acidic, eating away at the cuts on his lips, and suddenly everything is filled with a haze of the flavour. It's too bright, too strong, and he wrestles with his body to open his eyes again

When he does, the world is falling to pieces.

Already, the grey metal of the airplane wall in front of him is gone, dissolved into tiny white... butterflies? They flicker in and out of existence, stencilled into the surroundings in white and black own. The mountains in the distance melt into wings, and the snow on the ground around him is gone.

It's beautiful.

Paper, maybe, wings so delicate and fragile the Felix is almost afraid to breathe around them. The landscape around him crumbles towards them, fascinatingly haunting, and he finds that he now can't draw his eyes away.

The warmth inside him is getting stronger. He doesn't want to leave any more, no, he wants to sit here and watch as the butterflies consume everything Chan left behind. But Changbin's too strong, his grip around Felix is too tight, and he's being pulled back anyway. The metal beneath his skin flickers with the soft cushion of the chair in Eden, the air begins to fill with the lingering stench of smoke.

He wants to stay here, he wants to go home,  _he doesn't know what he wants,_ and he's too tired to fight anymore.

It's warm. The numbness that had frozen his body has completely disappeared, and with a sudden jolt, he realises that the snow and ice haven't disappeared- they've  _melted._

The paper butterflies surround him, begging him to stay, but Changbin's voice is getting closer and closer. With the last of his energy, he reaches out. He doesn't know why he does it, really, too delirious with exhaustion that he can't think straight any longer. But one butterfly separates itself from the group anyway, landing on his upturned palm as light as a feather.

Beautiful.

Felix doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay here, watching as the world melts into thousands and thousands of butterflies. White and black, paper wings in the breeze, heat rising and rising and rising.

"Felix," he hears someone say. Changbin, but he's so far away, and even though Felix is getting closer and closer, his mind is still stranded in the land of snow and ice. He's still being pulled, but he wants to stay here. Where it's warm, and beautiful, and-

All at once, the butterfly bursts into flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep promising happiness, and then i keep making chapters too long and have to push it back. 
> 
> the second half of this should be coming out some time next week (feat. minsung back at it again)
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO if you're reading this, this is my formal request for more people to write skz fics so i can procrastinate writing this one :))))))


	25. Chapter 25

 

 

**EARTH**

 

"We're here."

They come to a stop outside of the familiar rink, both staring into the grimy windows with expressionless faces. It looks different to through the weird-ass mirror, much dirtier and with more cracks on the weathered walls. There's no shimmer of heat from the ground, but that doesn't stop Minho from immediately working out where Hyunjin had been stood.

Jisung's noticed as well, by the way he glares at the ground with nothing less than daggers in his eyes.

"It's much less pretty in real life."

His voice is so quiet that Minho almost misses it, so low that it's almost impossible to believe it came from the tiny boy in front of him. Pretty? The run-down building is anything  _but_ pretty. The only reason it's managed to stay in business for so long is because there's absolutely nothing else to do in this tiny town.

"This place hasn't been pretty in a long time," he says, failing to keep the laugh out of his voice.

Jisung looks up, tearing his eyes away from the concrete. "It's beautiful," he says, and he means every word. Not for the first time, Minho senses that there's something behind the words. He wonders what Jisung sees here that he doesn't, just like how Jisung never seems to know quite how to react when Minho does something unexpected. There's something Jisung isn't telling him. Like how anyone could find this run-down dump beautiful.

He squints at the peeling paint. Maybe, if he closes his eyes in the right way...

There's a charm about the place. The scuffed walls, the music seeping through the doors, the blinking lights on the bold sign, despite it being in the middle of the day. Beautiful, indeed.

He's about to say so- maybe comment on the fact that it would be easily improved if they had a slightly better colour scheme, but Jisung beats him to it.

"Come on." He takes Minho's hand and pulls him through the automatic doors into the lobby. They're immediately met with the hum of a fan, but the air it pushes around is just as stale and warm as outside. There are a few benches lining up on the side, presumably where people sit to change their shoes. Minho scouts the room, trying to work out where the receptionist has gone so they can get their shoes, but Jisung doesn't seem to care.

It's so full of people that Minho probably wouldn't be able to see the receptionist even if they were there. The benches are crammed with children ranging from three to five, yelling at the top of their lungs. There are a few people leaving the rink as well, wincing at how loud the screams of the children are. It must be between sessions. Minho visible shrinks in on himself, trying to make himself smaller to avoid brushing against anyone else.

Jisung, however, doesn't seem to mind the chaos. He continues pulling Minho forwards, past the hundreds of little kids all clamouring to enter a party-room to their left. With the noise levels and sheer amount of people, Jisung manages to get them to slip past, easily avoiding the overwhelmed staff.

"We're not going to pay?"

Jisung looks back at him, stumbling for a moment before catching himself. "Pay? The receptionist is asleep," he points to behind the desk, "Look."

Sure enough, the lady supposed to be making sure they don't get in without shoes is fast asleep, face pressed up against the keyboard. It's going to leave one hell of a mark, and Minho almost regrets not being able to see her when she wakes up.

There's a short walk down a corridor to the rink, every wall plastered with bright posters cheerily pointing the way. Jisung seems to marvel at the colours, but Minho only rolls his eyes. Maybe he'd appreciate them more if it wasn't incredibly obvious that they were just there to hide the state of the walls behind.

"Come on," he says, when Jisung's practically stopped to stare at a particularly hideous sign. They're close now, close enough that the walls shake with the level of bass in the songs playing. There's a set of doors at the end of the hallway, and the flashing lights from the rink cast long shadows onto the ground. If he stays here any longer, he'll lose the will altogether. Already, Minho's heart is beginning to beat faster, the roar of blood to his head not quite loud enough to drown out the disco.

"Are we supposed to have shoes?" Jisung asks, and Minho is taken aback by the strangeness of the question. There's a large drawing of a roller-skate on the poster Jisung was staring at, but it's still hard to believe that the younger boy genuinely doesn't know. Unless he's been living under a rock his whole life, which would actually explain quite a few things.

He must take too long to respond, as Jisung decides he doesn't need an answer. He's pulling at Minho's wrist again, and they're through the double doors and in the rink before he even has the chance to say 'wait'.

It's loud.

The music shakes the floor, sending vibrations through the heels of his shoes and all the way up to his teeth. It's not even good songs either; but instead cheesy tunes from the nineties, the lyric barely audible over the crackling of the speakers and deep heavy bass. Minho can't help gritting his teeth. It hurts his head to stay here, everything is too loud and too overwhelming.

The colours are bright, huge flashes of light painting the rink in soft pink and garish burgundy. They're too neon, searing the outlines of the spotlights onto his eyelids. He tries to keep his head down, facing the floor where he can at least pretend that it's darker, but that's proving very difficult when Jisung has his wrist.

"Jisung-"

It's too loud. It's too bright. This was a  _stupid_  idea; he never should have let Jisung bring him here. What was he thinking? This- this is lights and noise and people everywhere, brushing against his skin like they're made of fire, screaming right in his ears, blinding him.

He stumbles along for a few more seconds. His feet drag behind him, breathing speeding up, and all he wants to do is shrink into himself. It that too much to ask? Curl into a ball, somewhere where it's dark and quiet and there's less people and-

Oh god, this is exactly where Seungmin and Jeongin hang out.

 _What was he thinking?_ What if they're here, what if they try to talk to him, what if Jisung leaves and then he's all alone surrounded by people, no way to escape, no way to breathe, no way to stop himself from screaming just because everything is  _too much._

"Jisung, please-"

His tongue is so heavy in his mouth, grating against his gums like sandpaper. Even forming the words is so hard, and he has to choke down a sob through his silent pleads. He wants to leave, he wants to get out of here, please, he just wants to  _go._

And just as he's about to break down, Jisung's grip on his wrist tightens. His pace quickens, pulling Minho's weak body faster, faster, past hundreds of people, until they're suddenly-

"You okay?"

It's quiet. Not as dark as Minho would like, when he slowly opens his eyes again, but the fact that it's silent and empty makes up for it. There's a white light above them, making it hard to see in the sudden contrast, but after a few minutes of blinking, he manages to work out that Jisung's taken him to a bathroom.

They're squeezed into one of the stalls. Going by the fact that there's still enough room for both of them to move around, Minho guesses that it's the largest one, probably meant for disabilities. Jisung's let go of his hand now, and sits perched on the closed lid of the toilet, staring at him with big eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asks again, slower this time. If it's even possible, his eyes get wider again. It's almost as if he's never seen someone panic before. His hands bunch the fabric of his trousers up, one of his feet bouncing up and down.

Everything stops.

Somehow, the silence and the emptiness, and the mere sight of how Jisung looks against the pale tiles of the bathroom, it causes his mind to stop. The panic begins to reverse, the black spots seeping out of his vision. There's a rail to the side of him, and he clutches it, focussing on slowing his breathing and stopping himself from swaying so badly.

"Minho?" Jisung's worried. His hands flit nervously in front of him, halfway between keeping them by his sides or reaching out to hold Minho. "You- you're really pale. You're not going to throw up, are you?" His face drains of colour, and he leaps up off the toilet lid, pushing Minho towards the basin. "Here! Shit, please don't throw up."

"I'm fine." Minho eventually manages to croak out. He certainly doesn't sound fine- even to his own ears, his voice is rough and hoarse. His strength is beginning to return though, the sick feeling in the base of his stomach fading to nothing. He's fine, he's safe, at least for now.

He doesn't know how he's going to face going back out there.

"What happened?" Jisung's calmed down slightly now, and the big eyes are back. "You were fine- and then, uh, you weren't."

How do you explain anxiety to someone who has no idea what it is? Minho's at a loss for what to do- everything except sitting Jisung down in front of a youtube video seems like it would be useless, and his phone is all the way back at his house. Probably out of battery anyway, since one of his cats has almost definitely chewed through the cable without him there to stop them.

"It doesn't matter," he eventually forces himself to say, even if it does. It's such a big part of who he is, why he acts the way he does, but he doubts Jisung would understand. He's got a certain innocence like that, seemingly so sheltered from things. It's refreshing, in a way, even if the words physically hurt to say. "I'm fine now, aren't I?"

Jisung doesn't seem convinced. His lips are pursed, an unreadable expression on his face. When he speaks again, it's quiet and soft. The same fragile boy Minho had seen before, the one hiding behind all that confidence. "Please don't lie," he says, and then he smiles like nothing had even happened.

He unlocks the stall door and leaves without even waiting to see if Minho is following. They head back towards the loud music without exchanging another word. It's just as painful as it was before to open the door, but Minho is more prepared this time.

This isn't for him.

This is for the boy from the bathroom, the one who Jisung seems to desperate to hide, the one who acts like he's never had someone show him kindness before.

"There."

Minho looks up to where Jisung is pointing, squinting through the crowd. There're too many people to see properly, but he can just about make out who he recognises to be Hyunjin. The way the boy stands is so distinctive, his laugh carrying over the sound of the music easily.

Not for the first time, Minho wonders why Jisung wants to find him. He wonders what Hyunjin had done to the smaller boy, and since Jisung's eyes darken as soon as he sees him, he wonders how bad it was.

There's a bad feeling about this situation, he realises. Ice dripping down his spine, the churning of his stomach. Jisung takes a step forwards with more force that Minho's ever seen him use before. His hands are balled into fists, his cheeks pink, and Minho is reminded of the ash and soot that had covered him when they first met.

The rage in his eyes, the way his whole body had seemed to hum with a foreign energy. The way he'd spat out his words, had been so quick to accuse Minho. The pure hatred when he'd spoken about the message, nothing like how confused he'd seemed when Minho didn't outright seem to hate him. He's reminded of the red stains on his clothes.

Because at this moment in time, he's wondering whether the note was right.

"Jisung..." and either his voice is too quiet or Jisung just doesn't want to listen, because he continues right on his path towards Hyunjin with fire in his eyes.

"Jisung, stop."

There's no use, since he  _knows_ the younger boy won't even slow down, but he has to try. Shit, the way he's moving is scaring him, combining with that bad feeling and making him more ill than before. The walls begin to push in again, and  _Jisung isn't listening, and Minho's really starting to think that he should have listened to that note._

 _"_ Jisung,- please stop, you have to stop, please-"

It a moment of desperation, he reaches out and grabs Jisung's shoulder. Almost immediately, he has to withdraw his hands. The younger boy is  _boiling,_ the heat making it impossible to hold onto him even through his clothes. Minho stares in disbelief at his palm, where the skin is already beginning to pinken. The sides of his fingers tingle with the anticipation of pain, numb for the moment, but just waiting to burst into agony. He'd brushed Jisung's neck by accident in his attempt to grab his shoulder, and he realises in horror that there are matching marks on the skin he'd touched there.

" _Jisung?"_

And the crowd parts. It's as if suddenly no one's there, and Minho still follows him, clutching his burnt hand to his chest. His mind is numb with a mixture of pain and fear, following Jisung simply because there's nothing else he can think of to do.

The crowded rink suddenly shrinks to their small corner of the world. No one there matters, or even exists, apart from Jisung, Minho and Hyunjin. The music fades out, every sound becoming muffled and drawn out. Time seems to slow down, minutes bleeding into second upon second.

Hyunjin turns.

His face, for the first time, takes Minho off guard. The confusion, searching through the crowd for a familiar face, trying to work out why the mood has suddenly soured. He must have heard Minho shout, as his eyes go to him first, and then to Jisung.

His face drops.

There's a mixture of emotions, all flashing across so quickly that they bleed into one. Fear, and then horror, and then the wide-eyed panic that only confirms what Minho had suspected, that Jisung cannot be stopped. Hyunjin tries to take a step back, but his feet are frozen in place and he's already backed up into the corner. All the movement does is reveal the boy standing slightly behind him, who he'd probably been talking to outside.

It's-

Minho feels ill. His hand burns, uselessly clutched to his chest. There are no tears on his cheeks, but he's pleading for Jisung to stop with the same desperation. This isn't what was supposed to happen. In his panic, there's no room for the reaction he should have prepared, nothing except fear.

He might not have wanted to see Seungmin, but, oh god, he  _cares._ He cares so much, he pushes them away but he cares so much that it  _hurts,_ burns his skin like Jisung's touch because he doesn't know how to deal with the fact that his little world doesn't just contain him and his cats. He cares, about his  _friends,_ they're his friends, they're Woojin and Chan and Seungmin and Jeongin.

He's so scared of the fact that he can't stop pushing them away, so afraid to let them in. He's so frightened that he cares, that he's convinced himself the only way to deal is to pretend that he doesn't.

And now, Seungmin stands just behind Hyunjin. Their hands are intertwined, the fear in Hyunjin's eyes drowned out by Seungmin's determination. His eye is glowing softly, his face just as blank as ever, but there's something  _there._ Something Minho hasn't seen before.

"Jisung-  _stop,"_

Minho doesn't know how Hyunjin knows Seungmin. But even he can work out that there's something more behind them holding hands, the fire in Seungmin's eyes more alive than he's ever been before.

It's out of desperation that he grabs Jisung again, pulling him back despite the pain in his hands. The younger boy is so warm, his skin humming with a fierce energy that Minho can only think to describe as  _red._ Jisung is crimson, painted in blood and fire, and he struggles against Minho's grip but gets nowhere.

Minho pulls him tighter, pressing his chest to his back. Jisung struggles, pulling on his arms, scratching his hands, shrieking with an uncontrollable anger. He only gets hotter and hotter, a few seconds away from bursting into flames. It burns, oh it burns so bad, but Minho isn't not doing this for himself.

He's doing this for Hyunjin, the boy who he doesn't even know.

He's doing this for Jisung, screaming and thrashing around in his arms, red as the blood he was covered in before.

He's doing this for Seungmin, his friend.

And so he doesn't let go. Jisung scratches him again, nails deep against his arms and creating neat lines. It hurts so much. He's on fire, every little bit of him crumbling to ash, but Jisung is screaming and screaming in fury, burning so brightly, so red that there's no room for anything else. He gets hotter and hotter, and brighter and brighter, and redder and redder, and-

He goes limp.

There's no struggle, and even when Minho stops squeezing quite so hard, he doesn't attempt to get free. His legs must have given out, as Minho's supporting all of his weight at this point, his arms being the only thing stopping the smaller boy from crumpling to the floor.

"Jisung?" says Hyunjin, so quietly and so tentatively that it's almost inaudible. He takes a step forwards, Seungmin not fast enough to hold him back, and Minho almost yells out for him to stop before he realises Jisung isn't red.

The heat is gone. The anger is gone. The  _red,_ all that fire and anger that had seemed so foreign, it's gone.

Replaced with tear tracks and the quiet sobs of a broken boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this chapter was originally supposed to start with minho buying jisung paint, but that turned out to be impossible to write. you can pretend that still happened if you want
> 
> please comment if you have any questions!! the plot is v confusing, but it's very difficult for me to find exactly where because i don't realise if i've missed stuff out. i can make it clearer if people comment and say what bits are difficult to understand!!
> 
>  
> 
> in light of recent events, i just want to say that no matter how alone you may feel, there is always someone out there who will listen to you. every single one of you is appreciated and loved. please, please care for yourself, and remember that no matter who you are, you are loved.  
> rip sulli, may she finally rest well


	26. Chapter 26

 

 

**EDEN**

 

Felix returns a shivering mess, and Changbin's heart skips a beat.

The younger boy is slumped in his chair, legs drawn up to his chest and shaking uncontrollably. There's frost in his hair-  _where had he gone? -_ and his eyes are squeezed shut, breath rattling out of his lungs against cracked lips. Changbin's by his side in an instant, pressing his hand against Felix's forehead, brushing away his damp hair. His skin is cold. Mostly pale, a shade of white that chills Changbin to the bone, but worn pink in the cheeks.

It's only as he gets closer that he sees the full extent of the damage.

Felix shifts in his seat suddenly, leaning forwards. One of his hands had been outstretched, shaking slightly and coated in a thick layer of ash, but as he moves he grabs the table in front of him to stabilise himself. His legs slip out from under him, feet hitting the floor with much more force than necessary. There's a large cut on his knee, straight through the fabric of his trousers and sticking to his skin with dark brown blood.

What had happened to him?

"You're so cold..." It's the only thing Changbin can think to say. He  _is._ He feels like ice, and the way he's shivering can't be good either. Sure, Changbin knew that he was sending Felix to where Chan had become one of the Fated Three, but he'd thought that just meant The Woods or something. But Felix is cold, hair coated with snow, shirt soaked with melting frost.

Felix laughs. It's more of an exhale, but the shaking in his body ceases for just long enough. He's trying to keep it together, Changbin realises, he probably doesn't want to seem weak. "You think?"

It probably hurts him to speak. His lips are chapped, cracked and bleeding with the movement of his mouth. Changbin tries to shush him. He shouldn't be putting himself through more pain, not when it's Changbin's fault that he's like this in the first place. By the woods, he must be in so much pain.

"Don't try to speak," he warns again, as Felix ignores his previous attempts to keep him quiet. There's a fire in the younger boy's eyes, his body slowly regaining movement. Even as blood stains his teeth, there's a cold warning, letting Changbin know that he's not in the position to be telling him what to do right now.

He tries to part his lips anyway, but Changbin is faster. He presses a single finger to his mouth. "Don't speak." There must be a harshness in his voice that wasn't there previously, as Felix slumps back in his chair.

There.

Changbin's eyes flutter shut.

He focuses in on himself, pushing past the first few barriers of pain. Sending Felix back in time has drained him more than he thought it would. As much as he hates to admit it, there's barely enough energy left in him to do this. His chest hurts, his eyes bead up with tears, but since this is his own fault, he knows that he  _has_ to do this.

There's a channel deep inside his soul, and he draws on the energy from there. It's his connection to The Woods, the place where he gets his power from, but instead of finding a lake like usual, it's all dried up. Cracked, dusty mud where there once was an oasis. It fills his lungs with sand, tears at his throat with sharp fingernails.

He searches for blue. Faintly, he can feel the cold burn over his eye, the one that should be glowing. It mixes with his tears, staining them the same colour as the sky. Where is it? The blue, there used to be so much of it, and now there's nothing.

He pushed further again, past the lake and deep into the ground, deep into himself. Slowly, the power builds up around him, filling his body with a bright energy, making his veins thrum with strength. He forces it down his fingers, building up layers upon layers at his fingertips, before pushing it towards Felix's lips.

When he opens his eyes, there's no sign that the blood staining his face was ever there.

"Thank you," says Felix, but Changbin isn't finished yet. His hand travels down to Felix's knee, so close to the wound but not quite touching it for fear of causing Felix pain. Despite him being so desperately careful, Felix winces anyway. " 'hurts."

"I know." Changbin's voice is embarrassingly rough. His throat is just as sore as the rest of his body, screaming in pain from being pushed right to its limit. The blue in his vision isn't just in his eyes; it's through his whole body. There's more of an effect everywhere than he'd like to admit, but he squeezes his eyes shut anyway.

"Hold on, this might sting."

The blue is even further this time, stretching over his fingers in a thin film and pulling away from his touch. It's weak, watered down to a light pastel shade. It burns when it touches his skin, more like tiny shards of glass pressing into his palm than the soothing water he'd felt at first.

Without even realising he was losing his balance, he stumbles. One of his legs gives out from under him, and in his panic to find stabilise himself, his fingers brush against Felix's cut.

Then he's being pushed away.

"Felix-"

The younger boy is sat up straight in his chair, face slightly screwed up from pain but eyes alight with the fire of determination. His hands are shaking slightly, but it's not from nerves. "Don't."

"You're injured." Felix gives him a long look, filled with so many emotions that Changbin can't pick them all apart. Changbin almost wants to take the words back, he  _knows_ Felix is strong, he knows Felix doesn't need him to heal his every wound, but he'll be damned if he doesn't at least try.

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

Felix rolls his eyes. The frost in his hair is beginning to melt, dripping down his face and soaking the neck of his shirt. "Don't play dumb with me. I know you've been pushed past your limit already."

"I haven't," Changbin protests. He hasn't. He's still certain that there's enough energy left in him to heal Felix's cut. Without the younger boy noticing, he'd already given him some of his energy when he'd healed his lip. Surely just a little more wouldn't hurt. It would be worth it, to see Felix feel okay again.

" _Don't play dumb with me."_ Felix pushes him back into his own seat, and with a slight jolt Changbin realises that he barely has enough strength to fight back. Not that there's a point. Instead, he simply draws his chair closer, watching as Felix slumps back in his own chair. "We've both got to save what's left of our energy. There's something-" he shifts in his seat, wincing slightly, "There's something I need you to do."

"What?"

Felix lifts his hand up.

It's green. Pale, lighter than most shades Changbin would imagine, but still startling enough against the tan of his skin. It's completely covered his hand now, standing bright against the ash coating his palm. With his other hand, Felix rolls up his sleeve. The colour goes much farther than what Changbin knows is healthy, reaching all the way to his elbow.

"Felix..."

"It's on my stomach too," says Felix, lifting up his shirt slightly. Sure enough, the slither of skin shown is green.

"How did you let it get that bad?" This is worse than what Changbin expected. The staining of his skin, he only knows a little about it anyway. It's caused by the disruption in the timeline, green in the same way that Changbin's power is blue. He'd thought Felix's fingers might be slightly tinged a different colour, but this...

What had Felix done?

Felix's face drops. He's embarrassed, turning his head away to hide the fact that he knows exactly what caused it. "There was a butterfly. The world was there- and then it  _wasn't."_

"Felix..."

Felix smiles. It's fake, painfully plastered over his face in an attempt to hide the pain. Changbin wants to cry, hide him from the world, trade his soul to never have to see this expression again, but there's nothing he can do.

"Do you know what the funny thing is? I didn't even stop Chan. You hear that? I didn't even manage to stop him, Binnie. I  _didn't even manage to stop him."_

_"_ That's not your fault." It really isn't, none of this is Felix's fault. It was too much to ask from him. By the woods, Changbin didn't even give him any choice. If anything, this whole mess is  _his_ fault. This is literally what he was created to do, and he can't even do that right.

Felix scoffs. He won't believe it, no matter what Changbin tells him. At least, not now. Not while he's still in the moment. "You need to send me back."

"I can't do that. Please, Felix, you're too weak."

"I'm fine. I'm strong enough for one last push, and I know you are too. Use the energy you were going to use to heal me, and send me right to the beginning."

Oh, by the woods.

He's right. Changbin can't claim he's too tired, because he was just about to heal Felix so easily. He can't pretend that he hasn't been drained from the stress, because he'd pretended he was fine. Felix  _knows_ this. He's smart, smarter than he usually lets people catch onto, and Changbin can't help the burst of pride, even though he knows he's just making it harder for himself.

"I can't do that," he says, "I know you're strong enough normally, but  _look at yourself._ Going right to the start, that might've killed you even if it was the first thing we did."

"Do we have another choice?"

The leaves rustle. The trees are just far away enough from the ruins that they can't hear it properly, but the movement still haunts the edge of his vision. He can feel the power of The Woods stirring within him, moving in ways that makes his stomach hurt. It's...

It's angry.

As Felix had spoken, something had happened. The Woods, usually so calm and collected, had changed. Through his connection to the leaves, he could feel the bubbling of resentment, the start of a deeper fury aimed at- who knows what.

Them?

It could be. They've failed their one job, to stop this whole mess from ever happening, and it makes sense that The Woods is beginning to get annoyed. They'd been so sure that they could succeed, and yet here they were. Bruised, tired, slightly stained green in places.

Even as he thinks that, there's another wave of deep, sickening anger. It makes his head spin. There's a pause, allowing him to take in a breath, before the world tilts on its axis. Blue, everywhere, seeping in through what he'd thought was an almost empty channel. It's so overwhelmingly dark, dancing over his vision, filling his throat, but in-between the rush there are tiny threads of... purple? amongst the blue.

"Changbin?" asks Felix, but his voice is so far away, and Changbin's lost, lost to the blue. There's a pressure on his thigh, Felix must be pressing down there in an attempt to snap him out of his thoughts, but Changbin's gone.

The Woods is angry.

At them, because they've failed, and Changbin never should have put this weight upon Felix's shoulders. Despite his earlier protests, the blue washes out any thought of sensible ideas.

One last time.

Sending Felix to the very beginning, right to the split of the mirror worlds.

It's stupid, it's dangerous, neither of them might make it back, but it's better than the alternative of facing The Woods' fury.

"..Are you sure?"

Felix leans back. He takes his palm off Changbin's leg and holds his hand instead. "It's the only option left. Please, Binnie, I have to  _try."_

" _We_ have to try."

Changbin squeezes his eyes shut one last time. The feeling is so similar now, draining him of his energy as the ring of pineapple in front of Felix shimmers slightly. The younger boy takes the fork, cutting off a single segment and raising it to his lips.

"I won't fail this time," he says, before biting down onto the fruit and disappearing.

Changbin watches the place where he'd been with a headache, his bones screaming at him, every cell in his body splitting apart. But all he can think about, all he can choke out is a few words. " _We_ won't fail this time."  
  


 

**EDEN**

 

 

_before_

 

_It's bright._

_Hyunjin sits alone. His feet are drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them in an attempt to make his whole body smaller. His left side is pressed up against the window, body pressed into the smallest corner possible. There's too much condensation to make the position comfortable, soaking through his clothes until he's wet through, but the feeling of his palm against the cold glass is enough to down out everything else._

_"Hyunjin?"_

_He turns slightly, checking who's approaches him, and smiling when he sees it's Jisung. It's slightly forced, but when isn't it, these days. There just seems to be no emotions he can feel except unease. Silently, though, he mourns the loss of peace. He'd been quite content just watching, waiting for the world to catch up, basking in tranquillity._

_Jisung is anything except quiet._

_The younger boy pushes past Hyunjin's legs and squeezes onto the windowsill as well, pressing his own palm to the glass in a mirror image. He shuffles a few times in an attempt to get comfortable, before grinning widely. "What are you doing?"_

_No matter how tired Hyunjin may be, no matter how fed up of being trapped he gets, there's an infectious happiness in Jisung's voice that he doesn't think will ever fail to make him smile. Slowly but surely, his plastered-on happiness becomes genuine._

_"Just thinking."_

_At the same time, they turn their heads to face the window. He doesn't need to explain what he's thinking about, not when it's so obvious._

_He's thinking about what it would be like to leave._

_He's so sick of being trapped in this world with four walls, so tired of being so close to the outside and yet so far. He's fed up with being trapped. Hyunjin wants the same thing as everyone else: he wants to climb the huge metal gates, run free in the gardens like the characters from his favourite fairytales._

_"Do you ever wonder what it's like out there?"_

_His voice startles Jisung, and the smaller boy turns to face him with a frown on his face. It's uncharacteristic, when Hyunjin's so used to seeing him with a smile. "I mean..." his voice trails off at the end._

_"You don't?"_

_It seems insane._

_How can Jisung be satisfied here?_

_When there's a whole world out there, just beyond their reach? Hyunjin had assumed they all felt the same way, like the walls were slowly pressing in, like the universe was shrinking around them. He's definitely caught Felix and Seungmin staring into the distance, so why is Jisung any different?_

_Jisung's frown deepens. "We're safe here. What if the outside is dangerous? What if there's a reason we can't go out there?"_

_"And what if there isn't?" Sure enough, the smile on Hyunjin's face morphs into something else. Normally he'd shrug the disagreement off, knowing that Jisung's mind will change eventually. But for some reason, every one of his buttons are pushed down, annoyance bubbling up inside him._

_"There must be!"_

_Hyunjin scrambles off the windowsill, face burning. Jisung is pressed up into the corner, eyes just as angry, hands balled up into tiny fists._

_"You just don't want to admit you're scared," Hyunjin says, scaring himself with how easily the insult cane to him, and how emotionless his voice is. But it's so worth it, to see how Jisung reacts._

_"Fuck you," Jisung spits. He jumps up, tiny feet balancing on the windowsill. In one smooth movement, he opens the window. There's a loud creak, rust flaking off from the seal and painting his fingers orange._

_The open window lets a breeze in, sending chills right through Hyunjin's body. The sight of the gaping hole sets him on edge for some reason. He knows how far it is to the ground. They're at least five stories up here, and there's nothing but a marble patio to cushion the drop. He stumbles back, anger mixing with fear and the queasy sickness of dread._

_Jisung smiles. "If you want to leave so badly, then do it."_

_"I'm not stupid. That'll kill me." Never, never has Hyunjin wanted to leave more than he does at this exact moment. But he's not an idiot, he knows this is stupid. All he wants is for Felix to come in and stop them, or Seungmin to come and tell them that this would never work._

_He remembers falling down the stairs, jumping off the landing in an attempt to fly. Jisung was there too, he knows that this will kill him as much as Hyunjin does._

_And yet-_

_"You just don't want to admit you're scared," Jisung mocks, raising his voice to a higher pitch in an attempt to mimic the way Hyunjin had spoken. "That you're a wuss."_

_Hyunjin wants to punch Jisung's stupid smirk in, and he knows that Jisung wants to do the exact same thing to him. Suddenly, he doesn't care about the fact that this is obviously a stupid idea. All he cares about is proving Jisung wrong._

_He can't lose._

_With tiny footsteps, he makes his way over to the window. It's so wide, dizzyingly far to the ground, and as he climbs up to stand next to Jisung, he can't help feeling like he's going to throw up. "I'm not a wuss."_

_"Prove it."_

_"Why? So you can find out that this doesn't work as well?"_

_"What?" Jisung can't quite keep up with the change in attitude._

_Hyunjin smirks at him. "I'm not doing anything you tell me to. If you're so eager to die, why don't you jump yourself?"_

_And Jisung pales. Hyunjin knows the smaller boy doesn't like heights, he can see the way his legs are shaking, the way his eyes avoid looking down. With both his hands, he grabs Jisung's head, arms on fire with anger, and forces him to stare at the drop._

_"Let go of me!" Jisung screeches, squirming in Hyunjin's grip. He's surprisingly strong, but Hyunjin is stronger and doesn't let go. Jisung rakes his nails down Hyunjin's arms, thrashing more and more desperately. It hurts, taking Hyunjin's breath away, and with a sick drop, he realises this can't end well._

_So close to the fall, so high up from the ground. Everything he said to Jisung comes rushing back, filling him with regret. They shouldn't be fighting. They've got the rest of their lives to spend trapped together, and Hyunjin knows Jisung doesn't take grudges lightly. He needs to stop now, before anything worse could happen._

_His grip falters._

_Just like that, Jisung wriggles free. There's a moment of silence, half a second where they're both mid-movement, words half forming in their mouth. Hyunjin's fists are still bunched around the neck of Jisung's shirt. Their momentum is the same, so close together, and Hyunjin knows as soon as Jisung starts to move that he can't move his fingers fast enough to let go._

_Jisung's hands come up in front of him, Hyunjin's skin still caught under his nails, palms facing out, and-_

_He pushes._

_It's bright._

_The last thing Hyunjin remembers before wakes up in his bed is falling. Falling, the impact of hitting the ground, and the way Jisung had screamed in fury as they fell together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, two days ago, trying to make a plan of this chapter and realising i have no idea what jisung and hyunjin even fought about
> 
> the loonaverse has betrayed me once again
> 
> writing this has really put me in the mood for hyunsung now,,, so SOMEONE GIVE ME A HYUNSUNG PROMPT TO WRITE IM BORED


	27. Chapter 27

 

 

**THE BEGINNING**

The story doesn't begin with Earth in a seemingly endless summer. It doesn't begin with the ruins of Eden, or the empty fields of The In-Between.

It doesn't begin with The Woods, though it certainly is caused by them. The whispering leaves play a part, starting the hairline fractures in the fabric of reality way before the split had even happened.

It starts, Felix realises, in an underground carpark.

Large, and overwhelmingly grey. The distance only seems to lead to darkness, every side of the walls having totally turned to shadows before he can make out their edges. There aren't any cars, but he recognises the faded white lines painted onto the concrete. The rectangular pillars on either side of him seem to hold up the weight of the world, shaking with the force of... something.

He doesn't miss the comfort of the chair beneath him, or the feeling of his hands against Changbin's. He should, he supposes, but there's a strange absence of emotion here that makes his head spin. His chest feels empty, devoid of the pain he'd felt earlier, and when he bends down to brush his fingers against the cut on his knee, he feels nothing at all.

That's the first thing he notices, at least. The off-putting void, the way the air seems to ring with an unknown energy. His head is clearer than it's ever been before. His breath finally comes easily, the sores on his fingers from the cold having melted away. It doesn't seem possible - Felix knows that injuries can heal quickly, wounds that should have been life-threatening fading away overnight. He had seen what was left of Jisung and Hyunjin when they fell from the fifth-floor window, he's felt his own bones snap back into place after attempting to jump from sofa to sofa. But never have they gone this quickly, and never so painlessly.

There's something else, niggling at the back of his mind, the way the very air of the carpark seems charged, but then he notices something else that wipes every other thought from his mind.

At the same time he looks down, he suddenly realises that the green stains on his hands have disappeared.

With an almost impossible speed, he fumbles with his sleeves, pushing the fabric as far up his arms as it allows. It's gone. The green, the mottling of his skin, it's all  _gone_. He pulls his shirt up to make sure- and it's gone. He presses his fingers to his neck, where the veins should at the very least feel different - but they don't.

"It tends to do that."

Says a voice from behind him. Felix doesn't recognise it- and he hadn't noticed the man - boy? - approach him either. How was that possible? Felix notices everything, it's the one thing he's confident about no matter how many times he tells himself New-Felix doesn't need to notice.

But there's definitely someone there, and they definitely weren't there before. The man is maybe a few years older than Felix himself, with a face he can't but feel he's seen before. "Do I know you?"

The man smiles. "No," he pauses, seemingly thinking the words over, as he then adds, "At least, not yet."

"What do you mean not yet?" Felix already has so many questions, and this man seems comfortable enough here to answer them. 

The man smiles. "That's a long story, and I'm not quite sure you're ready to know the ending yet. Do you know where you are?"

Felix frowns, spinning in a slow circle. The empty lines, the shadows, now that the man's mentioned it, it does seem familiar. He's certain he's never been here before, and yet the very essence of the world around him seems recognisable. "No. I mean – I don't  _think_  so."

The man's expression falters for a second, flickering between realisation and something else that even Felix can't identify. He does a double take, looking him up and down again, and then his face splits into a grin. "Of course. Of course, that's why you'd be here, why else? And that would explain..." He isn't talking to Felix, but as his voice trails off, he looks up and meets the younger boy's eyes. "You're from Eden?"

"I am," Felix confirms, without really meaning to. Something about the man has made him relax, dropping his so carefully maintained guard. He squares his shoulders, taking a step back and sizing him up. There's something...  _off_  here. "How did you know?"

"The same way you know me." He reaches out a hand, gesturing to the carpark, "We're on the other side of The Woods."

That can't be.

The beginning, Felix had known he was being sent right to the start, but he wasn't expecting this. It makes sense if he thinks about it, with the concrete walls and floor, there's no way this could be any more different from the leaves of The Woods, but still...

He was expecting a fight. Somewhere he could easily get his bearings, and stop the universe from fracturing before it even began. He wasn't expecting to end up here, especially when the man in front of him seems so kind. He doesn't seem capable of something so selfish, and even the concept of one person being the representative for one whole side of reality seems wrong.

"What?"

"I know you're here to stop me," the man continues, as if Felix hadn't spoken. He glances up to a ladder to his left, the rungs mostly hidden by the shadows of the pillars. "I was just about to create something so much  _bigger_ and  _better._ More colourful, if you like. But I guess The Woods isn't very happy about that."

"How do you know all this?" Felix asks.

The man smiles. "I know everything, up to a point. I know what I create through the split ends up taking the forms of Earth and Eden, and since those places are as much of me as this body is, I know everything that happens there."

"You had to ask if I was from Eden," Felix counters. It makes sense, everything the man tells him seems to add up, and yet he still seems so  _confused._

"Everything is changing." He sighs, glancing at the ladder wistfully again, "I only know what I thought I would create. What The Woods has interfered with is hidden from me, and you," he says the word with a smile, pressing his pointer finger onto Felix's chest, "You're so intent on making things different that I can't quite keep up."

In a weird, abstract way, Felix understands. In the same way that he recognises the man in front of him, he's heard all these words before. That doesn't stop him from opening his mouth. "And is that a bad thing?

"Depends on who's side you're on. Whether you want me to tear this universe in two or not."

"I don't," says Felix, before the man can even finish speaking. "Listen, the split isn't as great and 'colourful' and you think it's going to be. All of this- it's stable. As soon as you add Eden and Earth to the equation, the universe can't handle the imbalance."

"Can't it?"

Felix's next words die on his tongue. He had a whole speech prepared, every technique he's ever used to get what he wanted, every action of manipulation he'd ever observed. He was so sure he could convince him not to, so convinced that he never expected any reply other than defence.

It's not how Hyunjin or Jisung would react, with barbed words as a shield. It's not even what the much calmer Seungmin would say, since he'd probably have an equally sharp and well thought out counter-argument.

The man takes his shocked silence as an opportunity to continue. "I mean - what are you basing this off?"

"That's what The Woods told me," he says, that's what The Woods told Changbin. He knows what the man is trying to imply; that The Woods have lied. There's no truth behind the statement, nothing except the subtle hint of manipulation, but...

"Have you ever considered that The Woods isn't as moral as you think it is?"

Felix doesn't reply. No, he's never considered it, and he knows what the man is trying to do by planting the seed of doubt into his mind.

"Have you ever considered that there might be another way?"

More silence.

"If the split doesn't happen, you won't exist. Eden and Earth, they're both my creations. So by extension, so is everyone in them. Don’t you think that there must be another way?”

“Changbin isn’t from here,” Felix bites back, “and he’s the only person that’s treated me as a friend. If The Woods is so evil, then why isn’t he?”

The man smiles. “Your creator doesn’t determine who you become. You should already know that.”

Felix’s mind spins. He should already know that? What could that mean? He searches for examples, something that could explain what the man meant, but only finds himself. New-Felix and Old-Felix stare back at him, two sides of the same coin, the very decisions he’d made for himself and so dearly regretted. 

He bites his lip. There’s no way he’s revealing that to someone he barely knows. Instead, he acts oblivious. “Jisung?”

“And you should already know that Jisung didn’t choose that path.” The man straightens his back, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of the younger boy. Felix wonders if the same red flashes behind his eyes, the same image of Seungmin lying lifeless in a field. “I couldn’t protect him, and for that I’m deeply sorry.”

He doesn’t need to explain what’s so obviously hanging in the air between them.

If Jisung hadn’t killed Seungmin from his own will, if the man hadn’t persuaded him to do it, then there’s only one presence strong enough to affect someone like that.

As much as Felix wants to deny it, he knows it makes sense.

The Woods. The prickling on his skin, the shadows looming over them as Felix forced himself to go back one last time. Changbin, pushing himself too far, only to be discarded by his very creators when they no longer had a use for him. Jisung’s hands covered in blood, wandering alone into a dark forest. Hyunjin carrying Seungmin’s body cradled to his chest, and never returning.

“So it’s all a lie?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” The man takes a step back, glancing at the ladder to his side. Felix is running out of time, he realises. “Not all of it. Something still needs to be done. Balance must be restored somehow.”

"What's your name?" It's all he can think to ask, all common curtesy having gone out of the window. He's empty in a strange way, and yet somehow he knows more now than he ever has before.

The man smiles. "I don't have a name here, but I've got a feeling we'll meet again." There's a pause, the man nodding once, as if confirming the thought to himself, "On Earth, I'll go by Woojin."

Woojin.

_woojinwoojinwoojinwoojin_

Felix knows that name, his eyes widen, Woojin realises he knows that name. It all happens so quickly, and then there's the tug at his chest, the blinking of exhaustion behind his eyes as he begins the journey back to Eden. It's not Changbin's blue, or anything near as warm and familiar as the older boy could produce. It's Woojin, a different colour entirely, forcing Felix out.

"Let's meet again," he says, smiling, and turns away slightly. He raises one hand to wave goodbye, an awkward gesture as at the same time, Felix falls to his knees.

The world is blurry, passing him by at one hundred miles an hour. It's just like the plane, except a million times stronger, and yet Felix's mind can't stop  _thinking_.

_woojinwoojinwoojinwoojin_

There's the glimmer of something on his wrist. It was revealed by the movement of his sleeves when he raised his hand, and Felix pushes back against his power. Silver, it's silver, Felix isn't leaving without knowing what it is, but Woojin is so powerful and all his mind can think is

_woojinwoojinwoojinwoojinchan-_

Chan.

It's Chan's bracelet. The flash of metal he'd seen around Woojin's wrist is a bracelet, the edge of it catching the light as he'd waved. Even without Felix realising, his brain had recognised it. It's identical to the one he'd seen around Chan's wrist, right down to the cheap green stains on the decoration.

Why would Woojin have the same bracelet as Chan?

When could they have possibly met? Woojin had said that he existed in all times, right up until this very moment, so could it be after the split? There are so many questions, so much Felix can't work out, and he just doesn't have the time. He's slipping further and further away with each second that passes, the ghost of Changbin's hands travelling down his back.

"Chan!" He yells, in one last attempt, "That's Chan's bracelet."

And Woojin freezes.

The pull at Felix's chest stops. Changbin's hands disappear mid soothing circle. The blur of the carpark comes to a sudden halt, and Felix has to put his hands on the ground in an attempt to regain his balance.

"What?"

Woojin's voice is small, and when Felix looks up, he's got the wrist with the bracelet clutched to his chest. "What do you know about this bracelet?"

"It's Chan's." Slowly, Felix pushes himself back onto two feet, "Or at least, he's got one exactly the same."

Woojin looks like he's about to start crying. "Chan," he repeats, under his breath. His other hand goes up to fiddle with the metal band unconsciously, spinning it around and around. "Chan," he says, louder, and then, "No. You can't change this."

"Wait!" Yells Felix, but it's no use.

"Goodbye, Felix," says Woojin. His hand goes back up, the world goes back to its one-hundred-mile rotation, and Felix can taste the smoke of Eden at the back of his throat. He's knocked back to his knees.

"Don't you want to find him?" It's all Felix can think about, his last-ditch attempt to stay here and talk for a little longer. He thinks back to Chan's face, the emptiness in his eyes. Almost like he's trying to remember something- or some _one._  "He's looking for you!"

Woojin turns his head away, but his hands are shaking. The force of the pull in Felix's chest increases, and he can see the faint outline of Changbin out of the corner of his eye.

Changbin, but he's slightly less blue, because right behind him is an even fainter outline. Red, unmistakably red and familiar, and-

"Eden! He's in Eden!"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the glitching between time stops. Felix slumps back- into the chair he was sitting in in Eden. Changbin rushes to his side immediately, asking question after question, but Felix is too tired. The last image he saw stays imprinted in his mind, tattooed onto his eyelids even as they slip shut.

Woojin's eyes widening.

He heard him- he  _heard him!_

Changbin's voice slowly filters back in, and Felix smiles at him lop-sidedly. Once Changbin realises Felix is more conscious, he pulls him into a hug.

"You did it," he whispers, just before Felix falls asleep, "You changed something. I don't know what it was, but you  _did it._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels strange to post after everything that's happened. it's simply a sick coincidence that the next chapter i had planned was woojin finally appearing. 
> 
> i know a lot of fic writers are going on hiatus, so it's worth stating that i'm not. instead, it's more likely that i'll throw myself into more fics than before to deal with it. i guess that's just my way of dealing with the pain.
> 
> as for woojin, i wish him all the best. i will never take him out of my stories, as he will always be part of the stray kids family. i hope that stray kids can stay strong and continue as a team.
> 
> if you want someone to talk to, or simply want to leave a message, i'm most active on loona amino. the link to my profile is[ here](https://aminoapps.com/c/loonaverse/page/user/sunny-thankyouwoojin/EVX6_ZzU4fPEmj874j2VqjarEXYPG2jVm)


	28. Chapter 28

 

 

**EARTH**

 

By the time Jisung stops sobbing, they're crouched outside of the rink. Seungmin had shown them to an alleyway down the side of the run-down building, just hidden enough by the huge bins at the entrance that he was certain no one would interrupt their conversation. Just like the pathway leading to The In-Between, Seungmin's pretty sure that it's a place only him and Jeongin actually know exists.

The alleyway isn't particularly pleasant, but it's quiet and secluded, and that's good enough. He doesn't mind the large black bin bags, as he can't actually smell them, but since Minho leans against the wall dangerously close to one, it can't be bad.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, stands much more awkwardly.

Whereas Minho has definitely changed since Seungmin last saw him, his confidence hasn't dropped in the slightest. There are new rings under his eyes, the way he glances towards the still-shaking Jisung is entirely strange. There's also a new energy about him. The way he kicks his foot back onto the wall is as familiar as ever. Even though his hands still tremble when he has to look Seungmin in the eyes, it's nowhere near the panicked avoidance Seungmin would have expected.

And yet at the same time, Hyunjin seems nothing like the boy he had first met. All the confidence he'd had has disappeared, the determination to talk to Seungmin having evaporated. At the rink, he'd seemed so effortless. Even if it was painfully obvious he was hurting, the look in his eyes was nothing short of relief.

It seemed strange that his whole personality had changed upon seeing a single person. But even as Seungmin looks at him now, eyes flickering from the boy - Jisung - to the entrance of the alley, this all seems so familiar. Like how he'd  _known_ how Hyunjin was nervous simply by the way he moved his hands.

But how was that possible? He's certain, at this point, that Hyunjin was the boy he recognised outside of the cassette shop. And yet, no matter how hard he tries, he can't work out why.

There's something he's missing here.

Jisung wipes the last of his tears away from his eyes. His arms are wrapped around himself, a strange attempt to make himself seem smaller, and as Seungmin watches, he slides down the brick wall of the roller rink and sinks to the floor. Seungmin tries to ignore the tingling of his skin whenever he looks at him. Just like Hyunjin, he's sure he's met him before. He'd known his name before it had been told to him. If only he could work out how he knew it.

Eventually, Minho pushes himself back off the wall. He folds his arms, looking over the sorry state of everyone huddled at the back of the alleyway, and sighs. "Does someone want to explain what's going on?"

Hyunjin averts his eyes, Jisung's chest heaves silently, and Seungmin just shrugs. He'd like to answer, he really would, but he probably has even less of an idea that Minho.

"Fine," Minho says, when they just sit in silence, "Can you explain what the fuck you did to Sungie?"

The boy in question stares at the ground. Seungmin has no idea about this one as well, and he's about to ask how Minho even knows 'Sungie' when Hyunjin finally speaks up.

"The energy..." he says, with a voice so low it would have been impossible to hear in the rink, "It changed, when we all saw each other."

Minho's head snaps up. "Right," he says, "I felt it too. But why?"

"I don't know. I don't even know why you're here! Listen, all I want to do is talk to Seungmin, and that's it. I don't know what Jisung's told you about me, but-"

Minho scoffs. "If you weren't aware, Seungmin is  _my_ friend. Jisung's told me nothing about you, so I want none of your vague excuses." He takes a step closer, pointing a finger into Hyunjin's chest, "Explain what you did to Sungie, and  _maybe_ I'll let you talk to Seungmin."

"What  _I did?"_

_"_ Look at him! Look at my arm! He was perfectly fine, and then he wasn't. As soon as he saw you!"

There's a pause. Hyunjin's shaking slightly, and Seungmin can't explain why he knows this, but it's not from anger. He's scared, he's terrified of Jisung, and he's hopelessly intimidated by Minho. "Why are you here?" he says, "Did The Woods send you? To kill me?"

Minho's silence is all the response Seungmin needs.

He steps forwards, coming between the two boys. His eye hurts and the wires beneath his metal skin ache with a ferocity he's never felt before. Even if he can't see himself, he knows that his eye is glowing with pale pink light. And it  _hurts._

"Minnie," gasps Hyunjin. One of his hands goes up to cradle Seungmin's face with a speed that must be instinct, and the feeling of their skin against skin is so familiar. "Your eye, it's flickering."

Seungmin presses his palm to the eye in question. He can't see the light, but when his fingertips rest on the thin skin of his eyelid, he can just about feel a gentle pulsing. "I'm fine," he says, when Hyunjin doesn't back away immediately.

"Yeah right," says Minho. There's a frown on his face, and he's got the expression of someone who's trying to work something out. "The Woods? Was it that?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Seungmin's eye flashes again. It's brighter this time, lighting up enough of the wall in front of him that even Seungmin can see the glow. Whatever's happening to him, it's obviously connected to what Minho had said - something about a forest. But what do a couple of trees have to do with anything?

"Not just a couple of trees," says Hyunjin darkly, and Seungmin realises he must have spoken aloud, "They're evil. I don't know how much you remember, Minnie, but there's a reason Jisung came to find me."

He glances at Minho to confirm, and Minho nods. "At least, that's what Sungie told me." He then turns to face Seungmin, "The Woods is this... super powerful  _being_ that lives in an entirely different reality. Sounds pretty fucky, I know, but it's true. It's what told Jisung to- uh-" he has the decency to look at least slightly embarrassed, "well, I assume they told him to kill Hyunjin."

From the floor, Jisung bursts into tears again.

Seungmin nods, but that's not what caught his attention. Instead, he turns to Hyunjin. "What do you mean remember?"

Hyunjin's face falls. For a second, he looks like he's about to do exactly the same thing as Jisung, but then he bites his lip and looks up again. "You died." He looks at Seungmin as if Minho isn't even there. As if it's just the two of them, and what he'd just said wasn't completely impossible. As if Seungmin wouldn't remember dying, as if he'd forget an entire  _life_.

And yet, something tells him that Hyunjin isn't lying.

"What?"

"There was a fire. We-  _I -_ left Jisung behind, and I  _told you not to_ \- but you went back anyway- and Seungmin, we almost lost you, I thought you were going to  _die."_ He pauses, breath hitching, "And then we did. And it was all my fault- so I took you to The Woods and they said they could make everything better, but it  _didn't_ and I thought I'd never be able to see you again."

There's silence. Seungmin tries to take in what Hyunjin had said, but... it hurts. Everything is too much. His eye is still flickering, sending sharp, stabbing pains back into his skull, and every reveal just seems to make it worse.

"But you're here now," says Minho. He doesn't seem affected by the fact he'd just found out that Seungmin had  _actually died,_ but Seungmin guesses that's to be expected.

Hyunjin glares at him. "Why do you think Jisung was sent to kill me?"

Minho bristles, visible. His back straightens, and Seungmin can't help but feel slightly jealous of the boy currently slumped against the wall. They can't have known each other for long, but Minho is already showing more emotion for him than he ever has for his other friends. "Did you see him there?" he says, and his voice is nothing more than a low hiss, "Do you see him now? Whatever happened, he wasn't in control."

"It was The Woods."

They both turn to face Seungmin, eyes alight with fire, and for the first time, Seungmin feels different. There's the bubbling of an unidentifiable emotion in his chest, but it's an  _emotion._ With every breath he takes, with every throbbing beat of his headache, he feels alive.

"You said that The Woods told Jisung to kill you," he turns to face Hyunjin. "And yet when he came close, whatever control they had over him suddenly failed. I think that the combined presence of us- Hyunjin coming back to find me, Minho trying to stop Jisung, me going back into the burning house - it cancelled out the effect on Jisung."

Just as all the faces had turned to him, they all swivel at the same time to face the boy on the floor.

"I didn't mean to."

His voice is low and scratchy, his eyes are still focused somewhere on the grimy cobblestones, but he's stopped crying.

"What?"

"I didn't mean to," repeats Jisung, "I- I panicked, and then-"

With a strange sense of deja-vu, Seungmin suddenly realises that he already knows what Jisung is talking about. Without him even having to think about it, his mind has provided him with flashes of images and  _memories._ A time when he was much younger, staring out of an open window, trying not to look down because he knows what lies on the ground below him. He remembers sitting beside a boy with freckles -  _Felix -_ and watching as the rain washed the red stain from the floor.

But that was impossible.

He couldn't have memories in the same way that he couldn't have drinks, in the same way that he'd never be normal. He'd never had a childhood, and yet here he is, remembering people he's never met.

"The window," he says, without quite meaning to, "Felix said you jumped?"

"Felix?" Says Minho, but his voice is immediately drowned out by Hyunjin's "You remember?"

Maybe Seungmin would reply, but Jisung gets there first. Even if he hadn't, Seungmin didn't know what he would have said. Does he remember? What's he supposed to be remembering? All he knows is that his head is a mess. He'll get through it eventually, he always does, but for now it's better to just ignore the gaping hole in his mind and continue on like normal. Panicking will benefit no one, and Seungmin is nothing if not sensible.

"He didn't jump," says Jisung, "I pushed him."

Hyunjin flinches. His eyes are red, breathing already shallow. But when Jisung speaks, he shakes his head violently, "I taunted you. It wasn't your fault. I started the whole thing, and therefore I deserved i-"

Jisung jumps to his feet. "Bullshit." The fire Seungmin had seen in the roller-skating rink is back, but this time it's morphed into a different form. Before, it had been bright and uncontrollable, taking control of his body in a numb emotionless stare. And here, his anger is painful. It's all his grief, all his regret and hatred and confusion and  _loneliness_ bundled up into one.

"Jisung-"

"I pushed you! Hyunjin, I pushed you out of a window! And it was my fault the window was even open in the first place, just because you kept  _making fun of_   _me_  and I didn't know what to do except- except push you back."

Hyunjin is crying now. There are fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and Seungmin's suddenly overcome with the urge to comfort him. He wants to come to his defence, something inside of him already so sure that it was Jisung's fault. But he stays back. This isn't his place to speak up. Whatever's going on, Hyunjin and Jisung need to get through it without any interference from anyone else.

Minho seems to be thinking along the same lines. He coughs into his hand before anyone else can speak, drawing all their attention to him. "Maybe," he says, "Maybe this is a conversation you should have alone."

Jisung opens his mouth to argue, his emotions already all over the place, but Minho hushes him by raising his hand. "This is obviously important, and I don't think at the back of an alleyway is the right place for a life-changing make-up. Especially if we're on a time frame."

"The Woods," Seungmin realises. Felix, the freckled boy, he must have gone somewhere, and Seungmin's got a sick feeling that he's not going to like where. Although he may not have presented the point as well as he could have done, Minho's right. If The Woods are as evil as everyone says they are, and if there are still more people stranded within them, then they need to move quickly.

Minho nods. "You both forgive each other, right?" Jisung and Hyunjin nod, glancing at each other with identically tear-stained cheeks. "Then that's good enough. It's not perfect, but it's close."

It is.

Even Seungmin and his numb heart can tell the atmosphere between the two boys has changed considerably. It's not comfortable yet, but there's the beginning of an understanding that Seungmin knows will be strong. They've gone through too much together for it not to be.

"So, what now?" Jisung's voice breaks halfway through his question, but no one mentions it. He looks around, as if seeing the group for the first time, and frowns. "Where's Felix?"

Hyunjin's eyes go wide. "The Woods- him and Changbin don't know-"

"Didn't you say there were three people in The In-Between?" Asks Minho.

Hyunjin nods. "Yeah. Or, at least-" he glances at Jisung, "There were supposed to be three people. Jisung, Changbin and Chan."

" _Chan?_ " Seungmin and Minho chorus at the same time. Even as he says it, Seungmin starts to realise that there are two contrasting images of Chan in his mind. The one from Earth with dark hair, and one bleached blonde with a glowing eye. And if Chan's in The In-Between...

"And Jeongin," says Seungmin. When Minho frowns, obviously confused, he continues, "He's not at his house or the roller-skating rink. Since it's starting to look like everyone's involved in this mess, I think it's safe to say that he's probably not on Earth anymore."

"We better look out for Woojin as well, then," points out Minho, and Seungmin nods. He hasn't seen the older boy in a while, but he has no doubt at all that he's worked out where Chan is.

"We need to warn them," says Jisung. His voice is small, but his eyes are determined. "Please. I want to do something right for once."

There's the silence of agreement, all minds working overtime in an attempt to try and make a plan. There are still so many questions to be answered, still so many things they need to talk about, but Seungmin is beginning to sense a theme. There's never enough time. Everything is happening so quickly that the only option is to try and fight back without hesitating for even a second.

"Where do we start?" He asks when no one else does. In reality, they don't have any idea. They're all so lost, and yet there's no time to slow down.

"The In-Between," says Jisung, eyes on fire, "I'm ready to burn some trees to the ground."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter,,, was so hard to write,,, it's very short and that's because i suddenly remembered how much i hate writing dialogue. 
> 
> but in other news, i'm back on track! i've finally caught up with the chapter plans i made, so the final number /should/ be accurate this time.
> 
> thank you for all the comments on the last chapter!! i love you all so much ahhhh


	29. Chapter 29

 

 

**THE WOODS**

 

When Woojin opens his eyes, he's somewhere he's never been before. It's not even a sudden change, one which would require him to be expecting the change. Instead, it happens without him even realising. He was simply in one place before he blinked, and when his eyes opened again, he was somewhere else.

What's even stranger is that he thinks he's been here before.

Only a second ago, he had been walking down the pavement outside Chan's house for what seemed like the fiftieth time. It was stupid, he knew that. Chan's been missing for over a week now. With every day that passes, with every _second_  that Woojin lets slip away, Chan's memory seems to get more and more distant.

At the beginning he'd thought it was his imagination. Even as he'd reported Chan's disappearance, the police had never picked up. The teachers at the school never mentioned his absence, even as they made snide comments about Minho never turning up. Chan's family had never joined them in their searches for him, and after a while, when he spoke to them about it, they looked at him like he was insane. Chan's bedroom, the one in the corner of their house, had only stayed like that for a week.

One day, Woojin had walked past and seen that it had been converted into an office. As if Chan had never been there in the first place. That was the day that Chan's family hadn't even opened the door for him, no matter how many times he rang the doorbell.

It was like Chan had never even existed.

And that was only part of it. As soon as Chan had disappeared, Minho had immediately retreated into his house, avoiding all contact with the outside world. Jeongin and Seungmin had at first seemed more attached at the hip than ever, and then something had happened when they'd invited him roller-skating that completely changed them.

At first it was Jeongin, not noticing that Seungmin was low on change. Woojin had yelled at him, something he felt so bad about now, but all that stress had been piling up until it was inevitably going to overflow. And then Jeongin had gone just as MIA as Chan. He'd refused to pick up his phone, making Woojin feel more and more guilty with every time he was sent to voicemail.

Seungmin, reliable and shy Seungmin who'd never spoken to anyone outside of the four of them, was getting bolder and bolder. He'd shrugged Woojin off at the charging station, leaving him behind as if he meant nothing. His eyes, usually so empty, had been filled with confusion.

All of it was so strange. So weird, only getting more and more peculiar.

And now he's here.

The familiar streets of Earth are long gone, the hard pavement beneath his shoes sinking into soft soil. The air cools around his skin, the blistering heat dropping several degrees at once, and the change in light takes his eyes a few seconds to adjust. The smell of melting plastic disappears, replaced with something much more earthy and natural, and the humidity makes his lungs ache.

He's in a forest.

It's not an understatement, even compared to the sparse few trees of his hometown. Here, he's surrounded by branches and leaves, coating the ground and winding around each other to form a dense cover. They seem to shiver in the wind, creaking and groaning with every sudden gust.

And yet, despite his certainty that he's never even seen so many trees in one place, let alone been in a forest, it's so achingly familiar. The rotten branches lie in his chest like bad memories. Every bone in his body hums with energy, his cells throbbing with a power he didn't even know he had. He knows he hates this place; he knows that he isn't safe here, and yet in every way possible, he's more  _alive._

How did he get here?

He stumbles forwards without quite meaning to. The world tilts on its axis for a second, before correcting itself in time with the heaving of his chest. Woojin's head drops to facing the ground almost immediately, attempting to get his bearings back, but all he can see is a small ring of light encircling the ground by his feet. It's fine and faint, probably why he hadn't noticed it earlier, but there's no mistaking that it's there.

Slowly, he takes another step forward.

The ring moves with him.

It encompasses his feet, trapping his every movement, and yet as he stumbles forwards again, he gets the strange feeling that it's his own doing. The glint of sun where the shades change, it sets off the same pulsing of energy inside him. It's familiar in the same way that the woods is - that The Woods is? - and yet he can't stop the cold shards of ice dripping down his back.

There's something off.

He's here, and yet as powerful as he feels, there's something else stronger. He squints at the circle around his feet. Now he's looking closer, he can see that the line of light only glows on him. The rest of the soil in The Woods is almost black, swirling with ebony and giving way to something much, much darker. The circle isn't just making him glow, it's  _protecting_ him.

Why is he here?

Why is he here, in the middle of a forest? When with every second that passes, he becomes more and more sure that the trees want him dead? Why does this feel so natural, why does he feel like he's forgotten something so important?

There's a boy in the back of his mind. The image makes him gasp, tilting him off balance for a few seconds until he's on his knees in the soft soil. There's something about him, something unfamiliar and yet he's so hauntingly sure that he knows who this boy is.

There's no name to match the face, but he can see freckles in his mind's eye, and his voice says... something about a bracelet.

Woojin's bracelet? The one currently around his wrist, the comforting weight of cheap metal close against his skin. Or Chan's? The matching half, just as worn and equally as missing.

Why is he here?

The boy is telling him that, telling him something in an attempt not to leave. He's telling him where to go. It's so faint, just like it happened a long time ago, and yet Woojin knows that it's recent. It's the reason he's here now, because the boy told him...

The boy told him where to find Chan.

And considering by the distinctive crunching of feet on leaves slowly getting closer, he hadn't lied.

The trees split apart. Even from inside his protective bubble, Woojin can feel them fighting back, desperately attempting to block off whoever's on the other side of the tangled vines. But the power inside of Woojin is stronger. The thought of Chan- it could be  _Chan_  on the other side of the trees - gives him more strength than anything else ever could.

He pushes back, stepping forwards and watching as the dark soil lightens under his feet. The trees are strong, but Woojin is stronger, and the person on the other side is pushing equally as hard.

And just like that, Chan is in front of him.

The Woods couldn't take the pressure anymore, moving to somewhere else to conserve its energy, possibly focusing on something much darker, but Woojin doesn't care at this point. The rotten branches crumble to the ground and the shadows amongst the leaves melt into the darkness. His light ring expands, swirling around him until there isn't just one person protected.

It's Chan.

His hair is different, blonde and pressed flat against his head, but Woojin could recognise him anywhere. Chan- he'sback and he's hereand he's- he's _okay_. There's an equally strange glow around him, focussing in on his eye, but that doesn't matter.

Woojin doesn't care about the flecks of red in his iris, or the way Chan's face stays impassive and expressionless. All he knows is that Chan didn't leave. He's simply been here the whole time, unable to leave. He's  _okay_ , he's not hurt or- or worse, like Woojin had feared.

He barely even realises he's crying until Chan speaks up.

"I'm sorry," he says, and Woojin can tell in his voice that he so truly is, that his heart hurts with every letter that passes through his mouth, and how he wishes this wasn't the truth. "Please. I need to get to my friends."

Chan doesn't remember him.

The expressionless face, the still body, it all makes sense now. There's no teary reunion, or running into each other's arms in the hope of being held.

There's simply nothing.

"Your friends?" His voice sounds so quiet, so close to being broken that even he can hear it. He knows what he's doing; desperately searching for a sign to tell him that this isn't real. That the love of his life, the boy of his dreams, barely knows who he is. "I am your friend."

Chan shakes his head. "Don't lie to me."

This is worse than Woojin could have imagines. His heart hurts. It cries again, bright red and painful against the tears on his cheeks. "I'm not ly-"

"You're so much more than that." Chan's own eyes are watering. His voice wavers dangerously, the carefully sculpted mask of impassiveness edging closer and closer to destruction. "Woojin?"

He doesn't understand.

How can Chan know his name, and yet not remember him? How come he knows what he means to him, that they've never quite been 'just friends'? How can he know all that, and then not remember Woojin?

All of it piles up into one, and he doesn't quite know how to respond.  _Yeah,_ he almost says,  _that's me._ But it doesn't seem right. Surely he could think of something more profound, something that fits the situation better. But he can't, his mouth stays empty, and the forest stays silent.

In the absence of Woojin's voice, Chan trips over himself in his haste to explain. "I didn't remember, I'm sorry, but there was a boy - Jeongin -  and he told me that we knew each other, and- and that we were dating, and then suddenly-"

His voice cuts off.

Woojin can't keep up with what he's saying, and yet he understands perfectly. Chan's words tumble over, so desperate to make sense, and yet- Jeongin? What is he doing here? Why is he part of this story, when the leaves are drying out and the soil is black?

How did he get there, to talk to Chan in the first place?

A few things click in his mind- is that why Jeongin hadn't been picking up his phone. Maybe he wasn't annoyed like Woojin had thought, maybe he was simply as trapped as Chan was. That doesn't change the fact that he hadn't realised Jeongin was missing, though.

"I'm sorry," Chan repeats. He still isn't crying, or at least, he isn't crying as much as Woojin is. "I know you were important to me."

Woojin has to muffle a sob, and Chan looks panicked. "I mean, you are! You still are! I just don't know  _how_ or  _why_." He stills, bowing his head towards the ground. The soil beneath his feet turns spotted with water droplets. "I know I'm still in love with you. I just can't remember it."

Woojin lifts his wrist. His hands are shaking too much to pass off as normal, but he doubts Chan could care less. All he sees, all he knows Chan sees, is the cheap metal bracelet circling his skin. The familiar pattern. The way his skin is stained slightly green.

In a way, this is Woojin's last chance. The circle of light around his feet flickers and falters, his body so close to collapsing in on himself. The sudden rush of energy that had made him feel so powerful now makes him ill. He knows he must look a mess, with red cheeks and hitching breath, but there's nothing else of him left.

The metal bracelet, and this powerful, earth-shattering hope to be loved.

Chan holds up his own wrist.

And Woojin pulls him close to his body. He doesn't know at what point he'd taken another step forward - or maybe it was Chan? - but their bodies were almost touching. Drawn together like magnets, orbiting each other, just waiting for the right moment. All he'd needed to see was the familiar glint of silver, and then he simply couldn't take it anymore. He sobs into Chan's shoulder, and Chan sobs into his in return.

"There's got to be a way," says Chan. His voice is muffled by fabric, breath hot against Woojin's neck. "Please. I don't want to forget."

There has to be a way.

This whole place, this _whole situation_ , it screams deja-vu. The power within him rises and falls like a tidal wave, pushing him even further to...

Seungmin.

Seungmin - he'd never thought about this before, but at the same time he knows for a fact that Seungmin's eyes work like tiny cameras. They capture everything he sees, storing every sight onto his hard-drive for back-up purposes. It's just a thought, but shouldn't he have seen Woojin and Chan?

There's a strange certainty to his thoughts, like they're coming into reality just as he thinks them through. Maybe before it had been impossible for Seungmin to show those memories to anyone else, but it isn't certainly now.

Woojin pulls back. His fingers won't quite let go of Chan, so he keeps his hands resting on his shoulder, sharing every inch of this intoxicating power. "I have a way," he says, and he knows Chan understands. His friends, they're strong enough to fight for themselves. And either way, it's about time that Chan did something selfish for once.

"Where?" Chan asks, not  _how_  or  _why,_  because he already trusts Woojin so much. This world, it's as much about place as it is reason, and Chan knows that as much as anyone.

Woojin smiles. He doesn't quite know how he knows this, but he knows it's correct. He feels the answer like every surge of power, somewhere deep inside his bones. "Kim Seungmin? The In-Between."  
  


 

**EDEN**

 

Felix's head spins. He's standing up, somehow, having moved from where he'd been sitting in the chair when he'd left and from kneeling on the ground at the beginning. Woojin's face is still imprinted into his mind, his mouth still opens and closes with silent protests, but it's no use.

He's gone.

He can tell the moment he fully arrives back in Eden, because his legs give out from under him. There's about half a second where the world fades in and out, flickering with tiny black and white dots, and then he's on the floor. It doesn't hurt, even though he could hear the side of his head colliding with the floor, and the next thing he knows, Changbin is beside him.

"Felix?" he says, after moving his mouth silently for a while. His voice is relatively calm, but Felix has seen enough people panicking in his life to tell that this is all a facade. His hands are moving too quickly for him not to be worried, and his eyes betray everything.

Felix smiles at him. He's not quite sure why, but it seems like the right thing to do. He tries to sit up, maybe take Changbin into a hug or something, but the delayed pain from his impact with the ground is starting to catch up with him. His arms suddenly feel three times heavier, and even lifting his palms from the ground seems like a monumental task.

Changbin pushes him back to the ground. "Don't try and move," he instructs, glaring at Felix as if he knows that the younger boy will try and get up anyway as soon as he turns his head.

"Changbin..." he manages to croak. He's turned away, travelling to outside Felix's field of vision, and Felix isn't quite willing to get in trouble. He can't move his neck without being catapulted back into the same woozy pain that had made him collapse in the first place, so settles on calling out pathetically.

He needs to know that Changbin is listening.

"What?" Changbin's voice is slightly distant, half-preoccupied. There's the distinctive sound of movement, and Felix can only assume that he's searching for something to put over the cut on his head. Felix would really rather he had his full attention, but the small bubble of guilt gnaws away at his insides until he can't take it anymore. This isn't something he should keep to himself. It's in Changbin's right to know, no matter how much he might not want to hear it.

"The Woods isn't what you think it is."

The noises stop.

There are a few moments of silence where all Felix can hear is the rush of blood to his head. Then Changbin starts to move again. His movements are harsher than before, his footsteps heavier on the ground. "You've hit your head."

"Changbin-" Felix says, trying to push himself up from the floor again. Is this what he expected? He might have hoped Changbin's reaction would be a bit more accepting, but deep down he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

There isn't another reply, and truthfully, he wasn't expecting one. Instead, he can only lie there. The pounding in his head gets worse, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut, but ceases after a while. The black spots in his vision slow their frantic dance before disappearing altogether. Although his arms still feel a bit wobbly, he's still relatively fine, and Changbin allows him to sit back up.

"Here," he passes him a plaster. Felix looks at it blankly for a few seconds, not quite sure what to do with it since he has no idea where the cut on his forehead actually is.

"Uh-" he says, hoping Changbin will understand. The older boy stares at him just as blankly, before his eyes widen in realisation and he sticks it down himself. His fingers are cool on Felix's forehead, soft as they brush his hair away from his forehead. There's a tenderness, despite the fact that his hands are shaking badly.

Once he's done covering the cut, Changbin sits back. With a sick understanding, Felix realises that he's avoiding making eye-contact. The atmosphere has soured considerably. And yet Felix can't ignore what he now knows. Even at the risk of his own friendship, at the demise of what could be _more_  than friendship, Changbin needs to know that The Woods aren't as holy as he thinks

It's more important than both of them.

"Changbin..." he starts again. One of his hands takes Changbin's, pulling it close to his body. He can feel his pulse in this position, heart beating so quickly, cheeks pink with a familiar rush of blood. He might be avoiding eye contact, but he's listening.

"At the beginning, uh- there was a boy. A man, probably, but he was there and he explained everything."

Changbin still doesn't move.

"He said that there was another way. I'm not trying to tell you that the world is perfect, and- and balanced, but... He said there's another way."

Silence.

"He told me that The Woods were  _controlling_ Jisung, that they were the ones that made him burn Seungmin. Yes, they want balance, but if they're willing to kill for it, is that still okay?"

Nothing. Felix's voice is shaking now, a strange combination of Old-Felix and New-Felix pushing him further and further down the rabbit hole. He can't give up. He's failed so many times already, been left in the dust more than he can count, but this is different.

"Do you ever think about what The Woods are going to do to you when all this is finished?"

Changbin turns to face him. His eyes are rimmed with red, the iris of one just beginning to shimmer with blue. His teeth, so distinctly Changbin, have sunk into his lower lip. The points have made pinprick holes, beading up with a dark crimson. "All the time."

"Changbin-" Felix feels like a broken record. Stuck repeating his name over and over, trying to get just a little closer.

Changbin shakes his head. "But it's not just me, is it." He still won't look Felix in the eyes, but the way they've moved closer is unmissable. Eden is cold, but Changbin is so, so warm. "If the worlds never split, this whole reality wouldn't exist. I can't stop thinking about how  _you_ wouldn't exist."

The world stops.

It grinds to a halt just as the words leave Changbin's mouth, so slow to return to normal speed that it feels like years have passed. Something has happened between them, so insignificant that even Felix almost missed it.

"There's got to be another way," Changbin says. Their bodies are so close, pressed up each other. Kneeling in the ruins on his home, and creating a new home between them. The air is cold, but Felix has never felt so warm. Here, he can't help but feel like he doesn't need to be New-Felix, or Old-Felix. In a strange way, he knows Changbin would choose the person he is now over either of them in a heartbeat.

"There has to be," he agrees, so caught up in this beautiful feeling that he doesn't notice how the leaves begin to rest over the stone boundary.

 

\---

 

The walls of Eden are gone. With the iron gate twisted, and the stone walls crumbled to nothing more than dust, there's nothing to stop the leaves straying over the boundary. Vines that grow faster than should be possible creep through the rubble. The shadows cast by the branches grow longer and darker.

There is no safety here.

The leaves recoiled from Eden's walls before, shrinking back from the delicate stone as if it were poison. The presence of their mirror world was too strong, and so there were no plants in the endless rooms. No peepholes or doorways, no slip-spaces for the smallest of vines to creep through.

As it was, The Woods watched content as memories of a childhood were implanted. It waited until the mirror world was concentrating somewhere else, and then did some creating of its own.

Darker days.

The two weakest of the two, the easiest to manipulate. It created a schism in the relationships before they had even begun. Something so small. One open window among so many. And yet it was enough to create a tiny gap in the carefully placed walls, a slither of doubt and the seeds of hatred.

The leaves had watched, whispering into the ear of the dark gap, until grey was drowned out by red. From there, it was easy to latch on, to let the darkness fester inside of him until he was little more than a puppet. It was so easy to leave a lighter just outside the iron gates, to get the boy to slip his fingers just far enough through the bars.

The gap, the tiny shards of darkness, had become something much more. The protective walls of Eden had crumbled, and as the very first leaves begin to settle across the border between worlds, there is nothing The Woods knows other than anger.

The mirror world is back.

In a form of flesh and blood no less, standing in the centre of the trees. Mocking the leaves with a simple protective circle. With every second that passes, the carefully constructed plans begin to crumble.

The Woods had tried to fight, tried to keep such simple bands of metal out of mind, but the bird was stronger than they'd expected. He'd crept ever closer, through the land of snow and ice, and despite their best tries, had reunited with the rabbit anyway.

Not that it matters.

The original three are no longer relevant. The fish of their own creation, the owl born from the bird, and the promised wolf don't matter.

All The Woods needs is three.

The leaves hiss insults through dry stalks. Poisoned words, but they know where to cut their losses. The vines withdraw from one clearing and simply close in on the next. Eden, the forbidden land, and watches the butterfly and fish. It can hear the heresy they speak, seethes at how easily their own creation betrays them. With bones of wood and blood of soil, they'd expected him to be more considerate.

But it doesn't matter.

Eden is gone.

Every facade of protection they may have had there has disappeared. Burnt to ashes. One last thought is cast to the owl, but the ribbons tying them together are already being cut. They won't completely fall until the new Fated Three has been completed, but with every passing moment they let him slip away.

The butterfly and the fish sit unaware, in the ruins of what should have never existed.

And even deeper into the forest, the vines tighten around the lifeless form of Yang Jeongin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, so.. i'm just going to put a short message here saying that if this fic isn't updated again until january: DON'T PANIC!   
> i would never abandon sonatine, it's literally my child. however, i'm going to be doing a one-shot every day challenge in december, and trying to update this at the same time would cause the quality of chapters to drop drastically.  
> in the mean time, i've got a hyunsung one-shot i want to finish, so you can look out for that ;)


	30. Chapter 30

 

 

**THE IN-BETWEEN**

 

Chan's head hurts.

It's a throbbing, endless pushing against the boundaries of his mind, and it's only getting worse. Woojin's hand is cool against his as they make their way through the last few trees, but the feeling of skin against skin almost burns.

As does the guilt in the back of his mind.

He'd been so certain that Kim Seungmin was dead.

He'd seen how bad his injures were. The way Hyunjin's fingers has ghosted over his skin, there was nothing more tender than the last touch before a lover's eyes closed. Even as they'd disappeared to The Woods, Chan had felt nothing but the churning of his stomach.

He'd seen with his own eyes the way Seungmin's chest had stuttered. When he'd failed to return, it had appeared to only confirm what he'd already suspected.

And yet, at the same time, the boy holding his hand seems to flip everything over. He speaks of an Earth full of sun, the same place Jeongin had described, and he speaks of a world full of Chan. With every sentence, Chan's head squeezes a little tighter.

Nothing seems to make sense. He'd been so hesitant to believe Jeongin, but now everything the younger boy said seems to make more and more sense. He'd described Woojin before Chan had even looked into the pool; he'd known more about the bracelet than even Chan himself.

Even as he'd been pushed to the ground and told to wait, his eyes had burnt with certainty. He'd watched as Chan left, with a single name in his mouth and his head spinning with confusion.

And then-

Woojin holds his hand a little tighter. He rubs his thumb between Chan's knuckles, knows the pattern of Chan's footsteps so well that their feet never cross even with how close they're walking. When he smiles, Chan's heart skips a beat in a way he ever could have imagined was possible.

He's so familiar, he  _glows_  and he makes Chan want to remember.

He doesn't even know what he's forgotten, but he knows it was warm and bright, it felt like a home against the tarmac, it smelt like melting plastic on a summer day, tasted like melting ice-lollies. He knows there's a space in his heart where it belongs.

Where Woojin belongs.

"Chan." He's heard this so many times before, and the recognition itches the back of his mind, just out of reach. "We're here."

So they are.

The familiar fields of The In-Between, tiny purple flowers beneath their boots and mirrors glinting in the sunlight. Chan frowns. His head is all over the place, but he's not completely out of it. Everything is numb and on fire at the same time, but he's still so helplessly connected to the rest of world.

Something is missing. The mirror- he turns around to stare into The Woods. Changbin's touch is still there, faint and stretched as ever, but that's not what he's looking for. Even as The Woods pushes back against him, Chan has a new strength by his side. Woojin gives him power even if he doesn't realise it. Together, he breaks against the boundaries, looking for-

There's no purple here.

"Jeongin-" Woojin knows the younger boy, right? That's what Jeongin had claimed, along with the memories of his past life. The way Woojin's face pales only confirms that theory. "He was here. I told him to wait, but he's gone."

"Gone?"

They're moving, running towards the mirror where Chan had dropped the bracelet. He's gone, he'd left him right here but Jeongin is _gone-_ and Chan is just beginning to realise that he shouldn't have expected anything different.

"He was here. I told him to wait, because I was just going to stop Changbin and Felix, but-" He runs his hand through his hair, trying to calm the racing of his heart. "I don't think- I didn't think he'd just disappear."

He shuts his eyes again. He's done this thousands of times before, testing the limits of his mind and flexing the connection between him and Changbin. He knows the map of The Woods like the back of his mind, every river and pathway that keeps him connected to the different layers of reality.

Changbin is always there. It's a feeling as familiar to him as breathing, the quiet presence of the other boy at the back of his mind. Jeongin as well, even if that's so much more recent. He's faded, kind-of washed out with the intensity of the purple, but he's still usually there.

Except now, as he tries to concentrate, there's nothing in his mind except silence.

Jeongin is gone.

The sound of his breathing overpowers everything. The racing of his heart sounds like thunder in his ears. And Chan, no matter how far he reaches out, he's alone.

Changbin is gone.

It's not possible. Chan had felt his presence only a few moments ago- right before he'd entered The Woods to find him, Changbin had been so prominent. Chan could feel how tired he was, that was the whole reason why he'd left Jeongin alone in the first place, but now he's simply... not there.

And with a dawning realisation, Chan realises that so is The Woods.

"Chan." Woojin's hands are on his shoulders. He's frowning, clearly concerned, and yet Chan hadn't even realised that he was panicking. Woojin guides him to calm down. They stare at each other for a few moments, letting Chan's breathing slow down to a more suitable rate.

Eventually, his mind finally lets him speak the words have been echoing through his mind. "They're gone."

Woojin frowns. "Who are gone? Jeongin?" Chan can't reply. His hands are so heavy, mouth glued together, and Woojin has to use the time that he stays silent to put the pieces together. "You mean, you can't sense them anymore?"

Chan nods.

He's alone. All alone. It can't be the first time, and he knows logically that he should have grown up on Earth without someone else's presence in the back of his mind, but-

"Chan-"

Woojin brings him back. "Chan. Is there anything you can do about that, right now?"

Chan stops. As stupid as it is, the words make his brain freeze. They catch onto the concept; is there? Is there anything he can do? Despite his attempts, there's nothing he can think to do that could make the situation any better. "No."

"So, is there any point worrying?"

"I guess not."

Woojin smiles. It's so blinding, making his whole face light up. Chan's heart skips a beat, and the feeling is so familiar that he forgets to panic. "Let's concentrate on what we can do. Once we get your memories back, we can try to find a solution."

"Whose memories?"

There's a voice behind them. Chan almost jumps, not used to having so little control. He still expects the feeling of something almost  _opening_  in the back of his mind when the portals are used. Not this strange numbness.

He wants to know who's there. He wants to know where they've come from, how many there are, that tiny snapshot of their feelings as they step through the barrier between worlds. He doesn't like feeling so useless.

He doesn't like the strange anticipation of  _not knowing_.

Behind him, Hyunjin's eyes are red. He's close, closer than Chan would like, but at the same time it feels natural. He must have stepped out recently, as the air behind him sparkles. It shimmers again as Chan watches, opening as Seungmin steps through, closely followed by two boys that Chan feels like he should recognise, but doesn't.

One of them makes his head hurt in the same way as Jeongin and Woojin. He's got dark hair flopping into his eyes, but the way he holds himself is tall and proud. His eyes are focused as he steps into the In-Between, and the way his breath catches when he sees Chan is almost unnoticeable.

Chan's mouth burns. Just like his mind, something is at the tip of his tongue. It's not quite close enough for him to reach, and yet the dark-haired boy is so achingly familiar. There's a name so close to being found, and yet Chan's lips close around empty syllables when he tries to speak.

The other boy is shorter, with matching red eyes to Hyunjin. He's familiar in a different way. There's no tug at the back of his mind when Chan sees him, so he can't be from Earth, and that fact in itself narrows his identity down to one possible person.

Han Jisung's eyes are wide. He's got puffy cheeks, hair fluffier than Chan would have expected, and his clothes are covered in blood. There's ash on his face. He brings with him the acrid stench of smoke.

When he smiles nervously at Chan, half-hiding behind the dark-haired boy, Chan can't quite work out if he's scared of him or wants to protect him.

"Chan's." It's only when Woojin speaks that Chan remembers Hyunjin had asked a question. They move away from the mirror on instinct, backing away from the border of The Woods until they're almost in the centre of the field.

"What's up with Chan's memories?" Hyunjin's voice is strained. Every time they meet, he seems to be quieter, having lost more confidence. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Chan watches him as he moves, sees how tenderly he waits for Seungmin, and decides that Hyunjin having mellowed out slightly has done him some good.

Seungmin, on the other hand, has changed in a more subtle way.

In an almost opposite way to Hyunjin, he'd seemed to be gaining strength. He'd gotten bolder, arguing back and defending his point. Then he'd been lifeless on the grass. Stained with red blood and grey ash, chest barely moving.

Now, even if he appears better from a distance, his eyes are just as lifeless as the burnt boy's.

It's familiar, but so is the Seungmin who'd argued. There are two imprints of him in Chan's mind, slowly splitting apart and fighting for dominance. They're both real, both true, they're both standing in front of him, and yet his mind still screams in agony.

"It's more like what's _not_  up with Chan's memories," says dark-haired boy. "I didn't ever expect to be saying this, but wow. They've been standing next to each other for at least a minute and there's been no PDA. It's a miracle"

Woojin ignores him. He turns to Seungmin instead, "Do you have records of Chan on Earth? I remember you saying there were cameras in your eyes, and-" he closes his eyes when his breath hitches, willing himself to stay calm "-we need something to jog his memory."

Seungmin frowns. His skin is pale, Chan thinks, and his eye is pulsing slightly with coloured light. He knows Hyunjin took him to The Woods, and if the Seungmin standing in front of him right now is the same as then, he's just as connected to the forest as Chan is. He can feel the changes deep within the leaves as well.

Except, unlike Chan, he hasn't been cut off.

"I think," he says eventually, "It might work."

The sigh of relief Woojin lets out is audible. Although it's not as obvious, dark-haired boy's face lights up at the prospect. His words earlier had been kind of harsh, and yet Chan trusts his instincts. There's nothing cruel about him. That's just how he shows he cares.

Seungmin beckons Chan forwards. The rest of the boys surround them in a wonky circle. It doesn’t look like Hyunjin wants to let Seungmin out of his sight so easily, but he holds himself back. Dark-haired boy is pressed up against Jisung's side, and Chan can feel Woojin's eyes on the back of his head.

"Uh," he hadn't expected it to be this awkward. Now, with so many people looking at him, without the familiar rustle of leaves in his mind to guide him, he feels lost. "What do I do now?"

There's no reply. Instead, Seungmin takes his hands. Without another word exchanged between them, he brings them up to his face, just resting them on his cheeks. His skin is smooth, even when compared to the soft skin of Chan's palms. Cold to the touch, and with something unfamiliar about it. It's only when Seungmin lets go that he can identify what it is.

Metal.

Not obvious, but it's there. Underneath his skin, there's a layer of something hard and cold. It's why he looks so empty, Chan realises in horror, how The Woods was able to save what was left of Seungmin's mangled body so easily. There's the faintest hint of colour in his cheeks, but there's no warms of life.

"Seungmin..." he whispers, so nauseous from his discovery that he can't stop the words from slipping out. "What did they do to you?"

Seungmin smiles. He lifts his hands up in lieu of a reply, pressing his thumbs to Chan's temples. There's a second when he seems like he'll speak, or that it simply hasn't worked, and then Chan is thrown backwards.

In an instant, his head is filled with images and words.

_It's warm._

_Hot tarmac beneath his feet, shirts stuck to his skin, hair plastered to his forehead. The air smells like plastic._

_It's too hot to be comfortable, and Chan's sweating already. There's no shade here, nothing except heat, and yet Chan doesn't know where else he would be. As soon as he opens his eyes, it's as if he'd never had them closed in the first place._

_This is where it begins._

_He's standing in a park. There are a few trees around him, but their leaves are wilted and limp. The mud is dry beneath his trainers, and the sky is endless blue above his head. It's suffocating, his skin itches with sweat, and still-_

_The park is mostly abandoned. He's in the centre of the play area, but there are no children. The slides stay as melting plastic, bubbling up at the hottest parts. No one in their right mind would go anywhere near them. Even from this distance, Chan can feel the warmth radiating outwards, and he wishes he'd thought to bring a water bottle._

_He's heading away from slides now. His legs moving without his mind even realising, towards a figure of a swing-set._

_Who is it?_

_He- he knows who this is. He's lived this before. He's been here already. He knows who the figure in front of him is, even if his mind refuses to provide him with a name._

_A few more footsteps. The sky is so blue, the world is so hot, and Chan has been here before. Every step is in double, repeating again and again, until he's closing in. The man on the swing-set straightens._

_His legs stop dragging across the floor for a moment. The movement of the swing stills, his fingers clutching onto the chains on either side. As Chan's mind freezes in place and his legs continue waking, the figure goes to turn._

_There's a metal band on his wrist._

_It glints in the light, catching the sun as he moves and mirroring every sparkle to the identical bracelet in Chan's own hand._

_Woojin turns._

_He smiles._

_And suddenly, Chan has never wanted to be anywhere else._

_The world seems a little brighter. The glassy edge has faded, and even if Chan's mouth moves without him noticing, it's as if a filter has been removed._

_Then-_

He's back. Seungmin's hands are just leaving his head, the pressure of his thumbs still ghosting over his skin. Chan stumbles slightly, his legs not prepared to hold his weight.

Woojin's eyes are burnt into his mind. The heat on his skin is only just beginning to fade. The weight of the metal band on his wrist is still there. It's only when he blinks that he realises there are tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Chan?" Woojin's voice is too loud, breaking through Chan's walls. Just like when they'd made eye contact before, it makes everything a little clearer, bringing his thoughts back into focus. There's an unspoken question hanging to the back of his words.

Chan lifts his wrist to his eyes. His skin is tacky, damp from emotions he didn't even know he'd been feeling. "I remember."

Hyunjin and Jisung. The boys from Eden, covered in ash and mud. Nothing has changed there, but his thoughts now arrive with a little more certainty.

Seungmin. A metal heart, the two contrasting images suddenly pulled into one. Chan looks at him and he can feel heat on his skin, sees a boy hanging a little further back from the rest of the group. His empty eyes, the cassette receipts at the bottom of his bag. It all seems to make a little more sense now.

The dark-haired boy,  _Minho._ Chan doesn't know how he'd ever forgotten his name. He remembers his cats, the gates of a school and holding the younger boy close as he sobbed into his arms.

Jeongin- who  _isn't even here._ He's somewhere in The Woods alone, and if Chan was worried about him before he got his memories back, there are no words to describe how he's feeling now. He'd seemed so upset when they'd met, and- and Chan hadn't even hugged him back.

And the boy standing behind him.

"Woojin." His voice breaks embarrassingly as he turns around, stumbling out of the middle of the circle. There's so much he wants to say. He wants- no,  _needs -_ to apologise. He needs to hold him tight, promise that he never meant to leave him behind, make sure he knows that Chan had no choice.

He'll understand, Chan has no doubt in that, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"I remember."

"Chan-"

"I remember  _everything._ There was a park - and it hot - and, and the bracelets, I remembered the bracelets, I remembered where we bought the bracelets-"

"Chan." Woojin's hands are on his shoulders, stopping him mid-sentence. There are unshed tears shining in his eyes, and his cheeks are pink. "There's no time."

It's true.

Chan's head is filled with images and emotions, his face is damp and his hands are shaking, and yet even now he can't find the strength to deny it.

Or maybe, he does have the strength. Maybe it's denying his emotions that hurts more than giving in.

It's true.

There's no time for him to hold Woojin like he wants to. With every second that passes, Jeongin gets further away, Changbin and Felix strain themselves even more, The Woods become a little more powerful.

They're standing on a ticking clock. There's no time for feelings, and as Chan takes his place back in the circle, he can feel everyone's eyes on him. He almost wants to say something, reassure them that he doesn't need their sympathy, but he can't bring himself to speak.

"Well," says Seungmin. He hasn't moved from the middle of the circle. There's a glimmer of something in his eyes, and emotion that's foreign to Chan, and his smile is strained. He takes a step back, letting Hyunjin and Minho shuffle sideways to make room for him. "What do we do now?"

"We fight," says Jisung, stepping out from behind Minho for the first time.

Hyunjin nods in agreement. "There's no point wasting any more time here. You've got your memories back, right? So, we make the trees pay."

"It's not that simple," Woojin tries to explain. But it doesn't seem like Hyunjin and Jisung are listening. Chan can understand why; he sees the fire in their eyes and knows what the ash on their clothes means. But he also agrees with Woojin.

It will never be that simple. The Woods are so much more powerful than any of them could ever imagine. It's still so clear what it did to Seungmin, how the world had been turned to snow and ice around Chan. And, even if Chan's mostly working off assumptions here, that wasn't even beginning to mention what had happened to Jisung.

Seungmin seems to agree. Hyunjin's fist had gone up in his excitement, and he holds it in his palm, bringing it back down to his side. "We need to have a plan. If we go in like this, they'll tear us apart. You know as well as I do that they want us dead. We need to be careful."

"What about Jeongin?"

It's the first time Minho has spoken without the humour beneath his words, and it certainly catches their attention. "You've lost him, haven't you? Shouldn't our next move be to get him back, and not leave him to die in the hands of some fucked-up trees?"

Hyunjin and Jisung, oblivious to Jeongin's existence, exchange glances. But with the way Seungmin's eyes flash, Chan knows they'll agree eventually.

He's not expecting Hyunjin to speak up again. "Felix as well," his expression humbles, "I need to apologise. And I guess that also means Changbin."

"Jeongin, Changbin and Felix," Woojin confirms. "Right. That's a start. Do we know where they are?"

"Fe-" Chan starts, but he's interrupted before he can even finish the first word.

"That's more than a start!" Woojin takes a step back, surprised by the force that Jisung speaks with. His words are harsh, and he's practically spitting them out, shaking with fury. "It's- It's enough of us that we can tip the scale! Do you really think that we're stupid enough to risk our lives for nothing? For apologies?"

Then, as if the outburst was simply him being possessed, Jisung freezes. His eyes widen and breath hitches. For a second, he looks more terrified than before, and then his face falls. When he speaks again, his voice is barely audible. "I- I'm sorry. I'm so, so  _sick_  of being controlled."

Controlled?

Chan can practically hear Woojin's mind whirring. He hadn't been trying to control anyone. Even if the statement had sounded harsh, it's still a stretch to say that he was attempting to be controlling. 

"It's okay," he says eventually, looking at Jisung curiously. "I'm not going to hold it against you. But- what did you mean when you said 'tip the scale'?"

The four boys in front of them look slightly guilty. Minho raises his arm slowly, displaying an angry-red burn on his skin. It's distinctively the shape of a hand-print, and judging by the expression on his face, quite recent.

"Minho-"

"Jisung tried to kill Hyunjin. We were at the skating rink when all of a sudden, he went bat-shit crazy and hot,  _not_  in the handsome-way. But as soon as we were all together, he stopped."

He glances to Jisung for confirmation, and when the smaller boy only nods as an answer, he nudges him, urging him to continue the story. “The Woods were controlling me. I mean, they were before, but as soon as I saw Hyunjin I couldn’t even fight back even more. I just kept getting closer, and everything was so red, and- and  _I really thought I was going to kill him_. I wouldn’t have even regretted it; I was just so angry that I couldn’t feel anything else.”

His face has gone pale. It’s hard to see beneath the ash and grime, and what Chan is now realising is tear-tracks, but Jisung is obviously still struggling. He wants to reassure him, tell him that he doesn’t have to say anything if he’s not ready, but that would be a lie.

Only Jisung can explain what he felt. Even if it’s hurting him, he has to keep going. There’s no other way.

“And then- then it stopped. The Woods were gone, but it was like they were still trying to get in. I could feel them watching, but for some reason the more I fought it and the closer we got, the easier it became.”

Woojin frowns. “You’re saying that somehow… you managed to block The Woods out?”

“Not exactly,” says Hyunjin. “We could feel it as well. It was like a shift in reality, and we’d made a wall of protection around us. The Woods just couldn’t get through.”

“We were thinking it was because we all weren’t supposed to be there.” Seungmin looks Chan in the eyes as he speaks, flat and emotionless as ever, and yet… Again, Chan gets the feeling that he’s missing something. That there’s something behind Seungmin’s surface that he just can’t see. “Jisung was supposed to have killed Hyunjin at that moment, but he fought back instead. Minho was supposed to help him, but he held him back and got burnt instead. Hyunjin was supposed to die in the forest, but he came after me instead. I wasn’t supposed to ever meet him again, but I started remembering instead.”

Woojin looks deep in thought. “So… You think if we gather everyone here, where we were never supposed to be, we’ll be able to overpower The Woods?”

“It works on balance, doesn’t it?” Seungmin fires back “Hence ‘tip the scale’.”

It won’t work.

It  _can’t_  work. Surely, it can’t be that simple. Surely, they haven’t been dancing around the solution for that long, surely, Chan can get his hopes up  _one last time._ He wants to find a fault in the plan, so desperately wants to find something that will reassure him.

But he can’t.

“It’s worth a shot,” Woojin says from beside him. “We’ll have to work quickly. Chan, you saw Jeongin last, so we’ll go after him. Jisung and Minho, you can come as well. I get the feeling that we should keep Jisung with as many people as possible, if what you’ve said is true.”

Jisung looks relieved by that, and the circle splits into two naturally. Woojin, Chan, Minho and Jisung on one. The two people that hadn’t been mentioned – Hyunjin and Seungmin – on the other. 

“Felix and Changbin should be in Eden,” Chan tells them. He wants to go after them himself, but he knows it’s impossible to be in two places at once.

Hyunjin nods, smiling back with just as much uncertainty. “We’re meeting back here?”

“As soon as possible,” Woojin confirms, already moving away. Chan knows they’re running out of time, he knows they have to move quickly, but it feels like he’s had no time to think. There’re so many possibilities. So many things that could go wrong, and Chan doesn’t know what he would do if something happened to anyone here.

And yet he says nothing.

With something heavy and unsettling in his gut, the bitter taste of dread on his tongue, he steps into The Woods one last time.

 

 

**THE WOODS**

 

Everything hurts.

Jeongin feels like he's about to be ripped in two. His body aches, his mind screams, and his tongue is so dry that he can't help but fantasise about his abandoned ice-lolly back on Earth.

Something is happening.

He can feel it in the back of his mind. There isn't much left of his consciousness at this point, but what is there cries out. Only a few moments ago, he'd held onto the fact that he could feel Chan's connection like a lifeline.

Now there's nothing. 

The other person is there, brilliant blue, but Jeongin doesn't  _care_  about blue. He wants Chan. He wants to go back to Earth, sitting on the tarmac. He wants the burning plastic beneath his skin, the sun beating down onto his neck, running from one patch of shade to the next.

He'd give anything to go back there, and the small part of his mind that's still functioning has never felt such anguish. 

Chan is gone. Snipped away, and he can hear the leaves whisper good riddance as he goes.

They try to fit a new colour in his place, instead.

Jeongin doesn't want blue. He doesn't want this sickening purple, and he hates the new milky green with everything he has. It doesn't fit. The leaves know that, he can hear them crackle with heat as they try anything to turn the green to red.

He smiles at that.

He can't move any more. He's not sure if there's much left of him, as he hasn't felt anything physical for a long time. His mind seems to be working through treacle, and it takes so much effort to get a single coherent thought.

But he manages to smile at that.

Around him, the leaves are beginning to burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are heating up in the leaf fandom


	31. Chapter 31

 

 

**EDEN**

 

Something is wrong.

The rustling of the leaves gets louder, and the sick feeling in Felix's stomach only gets worse with the increasing noise. There's no wind in Eden, and the sky is uncharacteristically calm, but the trees surrounding their every side leap from branch to branch. It fills Felix with a dreadful anticipation. Kneeling beside him, Changbin is just as apprehensive.

"What's wrong?" he asks. Not to Felix, but half to The Woods and half to himself. "I thought we fixed it. We changed time, isn't that what you wanted?"

It's weak, and they both know it. His voice shakes slightly, and he's lost the air of confidence from before. Felix has never asked how the bond between Changbin and the fated three works before, but he can work out from Changbin's expression that he's more connected to The Woods than just as their creation. His every sentence seems to glow under the pale sky. The Woods can see right through their every lie.

The leaves roar in reply.

They know.

Felix feels ill. The heresy had only just passed between their lips, and he'd been so naive to think that Eden was somewhere safe. But as soon as they'd finished speaking, it was as if the branches around them had been possessed. An invisible hurricane tore the dirt from the ground, ripping the leaves from the trees and creating a howling storm.

"Changbin," he whispers, although there's not really much point, "Don't."

Together, they watch as the iron gates of Eden buckle and twist. The wind hasn't touched them yet, instead keeping them in the eye of the hurricane. In some ways, that's worse. The debris of the house lying closest to the trees is swept up, lifted off the ground and joining the leaves in the endless swirl.

Felix gets up of the floor slowly. His legs are still weak, and when Changbin joins him in standing up, he feels no shame when he holds tight onto the older boy's shoulder. The cut on his head is just beginning to sting. The wind may not reach them fully, but it tugs at their clothes and pulls their hair all the same, and the pressure against his skin simply reminds him of how much everything hurts.

And it  _hurts_.

Beside him, Changbin presses their bodies even closer. His voice is low, barely more than a murmur and only just audible over the howling of the wind. "Something's wrong."

Felix tries to supress the urge to roll his eyes. "I think I'd already worked that out."

"No, it's more than the wind." Felix feels his body stiffen at Changbin's words, hoping dearly that he won't confirm the dread in Felix's stomach has a reason. "The Woods is trying to do something to the bond."

"What?"

As they speak, the winds increase with force. A few stray bricks are tossed into the air, and the leaves screaming becomes louder. "Chan's gone. He's been taken out of the bond for some reason, and he's _gone_. I can't feel him anymore."

Chan's... gone? It takes Felix by surprise, and he can't help the little gasp he lets out.

Chan - dark eyes, bright hair, silver bracelet - can't be just  _gone._ He's left the bond,  _is he dead,_ but Felix refuses to believe it. Chan is strong, kind-hearted and he can fight. Even if there's no reason for him to have left the bond otherwise, he can't he dead. He  _can't._

Felix had told Woojin he would be here in Eden. What if Chan never made it? What if Woojin arrives and he's not here? What if The Woods found out and had them both killed?

"Felix?" Changbin's voice brings him back to reality. He's been asking for some time, judging by the tone of his voice. "What exactly did you change?"

Could he have done all of this? The very thought makes the cut on his head scream in agony, makes his knees bend inwards again.

No.

That doesn’t make sense. It couldn't have been him; it  _couldn't_  have been. It's simply a coincidence that all this is happening now. Maybe more than a coincidence, maybe he can go far enough to say that it is fate.

He can't afford to panic. He needs to swallow down the sour taste at the back his throat and ignore the fact that he feels as if he's about to throw up. He's been able to think rationally all of his life -  _that was his only important quality for more than half of it_  - why has is he suddenly unable to now?

Think.

_Think._

New-Felix and Old-Felix be damned, they're nothing more than parts of his imagination. They're both him in the end, and he can be whichever one he chooses. He doesn't need their identity to be able to think. Here, right now, he's the only version of himself that's existed.

Felix.

_Think._

He'd told Woojin to find Chan in Eden. It's unlikely that Chan could have made the journey earlier, since he would have had no reason to travel here apart from to stop him and Changbin. Therefore, it's practically impossible that Chan and Woojin had met earlier in the timeline. And besides, any effect there would have had such an effect of Changbin that Felix would have immediately recognised what'd happened.

Which makes is so much more likely that Woojin had intercepted Chan on his way to Eden, maybe only a couple of minutes ago.

That would explain why The Woods was so angry. If Woojin really was who he said he was, he might have been able to break Chan out of their grasp -  _which would explain why Changbin was no longer able to feel him in the bond._

Felix opens his mouth to explain, ready to tell Changbin the most condensed version of events possible.

He never gets past the first word.

His head splits open. Further than the cut on his forehead, and much more agonising than anything he could have imagined. His skull feels like it's about to burst, filling with pressure. He drops to his knees without even realising, and the impact doesn't even hurt. All he can do is slump to the ground, hands pulling at his hair in a desperate attempt to make the pain stop.

He curls into a ball, anything to make the agony lessen. It doesn't work. The world has turned grey, and Felix squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that white dots spring into his vision.

His chest rises and falls at an alarming rate, and his muscles contract and relax uncontrollably. He doesn't feel like he's in control anymore, and at the same time, he doesn't want to be in control anymore. The only thought in his mind is an endless scream, begging to the heavens to put him out of this misery.

It  _hurts._

Pure, blinding agony that makes the bruises on his chest feel like nothing. All he wants is for it to  _stop_. To be taken far away, anything that would stop his head from tearing at the seams.

He's vaguely aware that Changbin is beside him. They're lying on the floor in similarly curled-up forms, clutching at their skulls with the same frantic desperation. The leaves torn from the trees finally come flooding over Eden's boundaries, a horrifying torrent of green and orange. The sky has turned grey, but Felix is too busy lying in agony to pay much attention.

All he knows is that it  _hurts_.

At the back of his mind, the splitting pressure morphs into something darker. There are hot tears on his cheeks as Felix rolls onto his back, gasping for air as he clutches his hair frantically. The pain is changing slowly, becoming sharper and more deadly, and yet that only fuels Felix to fight against it.

He battles the foggy agony, grasping at the last few threads of coherent thoughts.

Dark pain, that blinding light, this is all familiar. The ground smells like soot. It tastes like ash at the back of his throat. And as the haze in his mind fills with suffocating smoke, the burning silhouette of a butterfly imprints itself into the back of his eyelids.

He's still hanging onto consciousness when he stands up.

Through the fog, it's hard to tell what's going on. The howling of the wind tears at his skin, leaves catching in his hair, but it's as if he's feeling his own body through a filter. The pain in his head is blocking everything else out, pushing him forwards on stumbling legs.

He's  _moving_.

Felix is standing, he's stepping forwards, and at the same time he's curled up into a ball of suffering. It's hard to think while his head is so close to bursting, but Felix is sharp and he's a fighter.

He pushes through the fog, and when he realises that something other than him is in control of his body, it doesn't take him long to put things together.

The Woods.

His head moves. It's a sharp movement, the kind that would hurt if he could feel anything other than the pressure in his head. There's nothing he can do to stop the movement as he stumbles forwards, even as he fights with all his remaining strength.

The fog in front of his eyes sharpens slightly. Felix leans on the motion, using the change in velocity to edge his consciousness forward. His head hurts, it hurts so much, but the more he pushes the faster his thoughts make sense.

It would be so easy to give up.

Felix is tired of being hurt, he's tired of being stuck in the middle and having to fight. It would be so much easier to just give in. He can feel The Woods trying to tether him down, presumably to forge a connection between them and his body, and wouldn't it be so much easier just to let them?

Something is sparkling in front of him.

It's why his head had turned, and Felix chases after the sight, pushing further,  _further_  through the fog.

It's a portal – it has to be, the sight is so distinctive even when watered down like this - and Felix could recognise the two figures climbing out from the shimmering air anywhere.

Hyunjin and Seungmin.

What are they doing here?

Felix's mind may be foggy, but he's not so out of it that he believes they've come back of him. But what other reason is there? They'd been there when Eden burnt to the ground, they'd watched as the smoke filled the sky, and Hyunjin had  _carried Seungmin's body_  out through the flames.

Logically, they should never want to return. They should be off living their lives in Earth, happily never wondering about who and what they left behind. They should remember what they'd done to this place - to their  _home_  - and unless this was the last place, they could hide from Jisung, they should have the humility never to step foot within these walls again.

Felix wants to scream at them.

Maybe it's a good thing that he's not in control of his own body. The calm jabs he's been trying to free himself with are long gone, replaced with bubbling anger. He wants to push Hyunjin to the ground, press his face against the sodden grass. _'Why did you leave me?'_ he'd ask, _'Why? Why didn't you come back?'_

He claws at the hold keeping his arms by his sides. It's pointless, everything he does seems to have no effect, but he can't stop fighting. With every scratch, with every frantic tug, his mind gets a little sharper.

_Think._

He can't hold anything against them.  _Think_ , hadn't they gone to The Woods? Considering what he now knows, isn't it more plausible that something had happened that meant they couldn't return for him? If he thinks about it, isn't that what they're doing now?

Haven't they come back for him?

Something catches Seungmin's eye. Before, he'd been staring at the ruins, eyes just as empty as Felix's had been. He must have been unconscious when Hyunjin had rescued him from the smoke, and even if there’s still a sheen to his skin that Felix knows isn't quite right, he still looks shocked. They're too far away for Felix to make out what Hyunjin whispers to him, but he's close enough that when Seungmin turns, he knows they've seen him.

His face changes, an emotion Felix can't place, and then his heart drops.

They're moving towards him, battling against the howling winds, and  _his feet are moving on their own to meet them._

Something is wrong. The Woods - they should be taking him away from them, trying to keep him safe until they can get him to stop fighting. But they're  _not,_ Felix keeps getting closer, and the wind around him rages.

There are leaves in his hair. They scratch down his arms, leaving bright red marks where the green tint to his skin has only just faded. With every brush against his skin, the pain in his head flares up again, screaming at Felix to just  _give up, just give in._ The sky is so dark. It's never sunny in Eden, never has been and never will be, but this is different. It's dark, and it's  _dangerous._

"Felix!" Hyunjin's voice breaks him out of his thoughts. He's moving towards him, pushing through the leaves, and Felix can't even call out for them to stay back. "We came back for you! Please, we need to get out of here!"

"We need to leave," calls Seungmin, "We'll explain everything later, but we need to leave  _now_."

They don't know.

Felix feels like a traitor within his own body. They don't know it's not him, they don't know he's not in control, and with every second that passes they get closer and closer. The Woods is planning something, and he can't even warm them.

His mouth is dry. Inside his own mind, the screaming has drowned out the pressure, filling every inch of his lungs with silent protests.

But no sound comes out of his mouth.

His lips don't even move.

Hyunjin gets closer. His eyes are as bright as always, as innocent as ever. "Come on! We have to hurry, and Changbin as well, we need to leave."

Changbin must behind him. Felix know the way that Hyunjin moves, sees that he's become slightly uncomfortable, and is suddenly hyper-aware of Changbin's eyes on his body. He's fully hidden from sight; The Woods  _knows Felix_ is fighting back.

_Think._

There must be something he can do. The wind whips at his hair, tugging painfully, but it's nothing compared to the helplessness. Everything is so filtered down, and yet it hurts. He struggles against the grasp, but it's no use. It's taking all his energy to simply stay this aware, when The Woods is so close to dragging him down.

"Felix," Hyunjin says, close enough now that he doesn't have to yell any more, "The Woods isn't- Please, trust me. We need to leave right now, just trust me."

_'I do,'_ Felix screams, ' _I do trust you. Leave me here, you've got to run.'_

"Felix?" asks Seungmin. Now that they're closer, Felix can tell that there truly is something... different about him. Not just his skin, but his whole demeanour seems stiffer. There's a glint in one of his eyes that cuts right through the fog in Felix's mind.

Felix can't move. The Woods has stopped him taking another step forward, and so he stands frozen. The wind howls behind him, but he can barely feel anything. Behind him, he knows Changbin must seem just as blank. He can only hope that their silence is unsettling enough for them to work out something is wrong.

"Felix?" Seungmin repeats. He takes a step closer, narrowly avoiding stepping on the stray remains of a bookcase.

With every step, Felix wants to scream at him to stay away, that he's playing right into The Wood's hands. Seungmin's smarter than this, Felix knows he is. Why is he acting so recklessly? With every step, the pain in his head becomes sharper, the wind pulling at his clothes seems more ferocious.

His little finger twitches.

_His little finger twitches._ Seungmin's eyes are flat, but with every step he takes there's a cold calculation. The sharpening pain- that's not The Woods, that's  _Felix_. It hurts more because it's  _him_.

The closer Seungmin gets, the more danger he's putting himself in.

The closer Seungmin gets, the closer Felix is to fighting back.

The wind howls. It's deafening now, roaring in his ears and blocking out anything Seungmin might have said later. He can see Hyunjin's mouth moving, but his voice is drowned out. It's too loud for anything except the leaves screaming as they're torn from the trees, the heavier pieces of rubble beginning to be lifted off the ground around them.

The hurricane surrounding them is picking up speed, and the shards of glass from every broken window glint under the darkening sky.

Seungmin is struggling to move against the force of the wind now. It pushes him backwards, trying to pull him away from Felix, and his shoes slip on the sodden ground easily. Hyunjin is beside him immediately, pulling him back. The effect of the wind seems to lessen as soon as they touch, and the progress that they're making begins to increase again.

_Think._

If the wind's also losing strength as they get closer, what does that mean? If he thinks, he can pinpoint it to the moment when their skin brushed together – is that what's affecting the power of The Woods?

He stumbles forwards slightly.

It's the smallest movement, just the twisting of his foot and his body momentarily losing balance, but it's enough. Felix pushes past the pain, every jarring spike of agony it sends through his mind, chasing after the sensation.

Seungmin and Hyunjin get closer.

_There_ \- his foot moves again, this time even further than before. It's hard to breathe, his head feels as if it's about to explode, but Felix can't stop pushing. It hurts,  _it hurts so much_ , but he can't give up, not now.

His cheeks are damp. He hadn't even realised he was crying, the blurriness in his head is making it too hard to feel anything else, but he is. There are fat tears rolling down his cheeks, matching the ones that sparkle in Hyunjin's eyes. His chest is burning with the force of it all, and-

The air is filled with smoke.

Around them, the dark clouds have descended. The hurricane has become an ashy haze, and the swirling pieces of debris are invisible through the thick fog.

The trees around them glow, burning branches only just visible, and his skin prickles from the heat. He's so tired, and the smoke only makes it harder to fight back, but he keeps stumbling forwards, keeps  _pushing, keeps fighting._

Eden is on fire, again.

Felix wouldn't have thought there was anything left to burn, but there's no denying the way the sky has lit up. The leaves are ablaze, swirling like embers in the wind. If it was hard to breathe before, now his chest contracts impossibly quickly, lungs fluttering like butterflies with torn wings.

It hurts.

It hurts, it  _hurts, it hurts so much_ , but Felix can't stop.

He stumbles through the smoke, as far forwards as he can go. It  _hurts_. It's become too hard to see now - maybe from the fog or how his eyes are blinded with tears – but he's lost sight of Hyunjin and Seungmin. They were simply there, and now they're not, and it  _hurts so much_.

He lifts up his arm, reaching towards some unknown shape in the ash and soot.

Someone takes his hand.

Seungmin's skin is cold, but his eyes are bright and he pulls Felix closer. Some of the haze melts away, the screaming flames trying desperately to reach their tiny clearing, but to no avail. Hyunjin's holding onto Seungmin's other hand, and the air around them is already sparking.

If Eden was ruined before, there are no words for what it's like now.

Gone. It's become unstable that Felix can practically taste the chaos in the air, the way the very walls of its reality are crumbling in front of his very eyes.

Eden is crying out with its last breath, before it disappears in one final blaze. It's pushing them out, filling his lungs with pain and his body with agony, anything to keep away The Woods and anything to make them  _leave._

They have to leave.

They have no choice, they can't stay here any longer, and by the look on Hyunjin's face, the portal won't stay open for much longer. In fact, Felix highly doubts that it came from either of them. There's a glow about the air that's slightly different, the way it reflects the burning flames is more like it was born from them.

Hyunjin is pulled through.

There're no other words to describe it than that. One moment he's there and the other he isn't – the sparking air has shifted to encompass him, and it's pulling Seungmin and Felix along with it.

In one final moment, in the last ashes of Eden, as The Woods screams in fury, Felix turns around.

His other hand is outstretched, the skin coated black with soot, and he  _reaches_.

He takes hold of Changbin just as the fabric around Eden stutters one last time, just as they're all pulled safely to the grass of the In-Between, and just as The Woods sets fire to the last remains of his home.


	32. Chapter 32

 

**THE WOODS**

 

 

Minho keeps his head down. It's not hard, considering how easily Woojin had stepped forwards and taken the role of leader, but it doesn't make him feel any less uneasy.

Is this what he'd thought would happen?

Arguably, no. If he'd been genuinely expecting to be taken to fight some trees with a cute boy by his side last week, he would have thought he was crazy. That the appalling amount of coffee he'd been drinking had finally gotten to his brain. It would have made for an even better reason to lock himself away.

And at the same time, he can't distract himself with humour for too long. That's not what the question meant, and he knows it.

Is this how he'd thought he'd feel when Chan eventually reappeared?

The sick pleasure in his gut is still all too familiar. It only feels like yesterday that he'd wished Chan would never return, caught up in selfish excuses and locked doors. Back then, he'd hated himself for feeling that way. Now, he only feels numb.

He hadn't been happy when Chan had stared at him, having just taken his hands away from Seungmin. Minho's sure that it was probably a very rewarding experience from the way he'd reacted afterwards, but to them it was just standing around in a cold field for five minutes. But... he hadn't been annoyed either.

He'd expected the familiar guilt. He'd expected to drown in waves of self-loathing, hating himself for even entertaining the thought while still being unable to get the image of the undisturbed life out of his head.

He'd felt neither of those things.

Instead, as Chan had looked at him, all Minho could think about was Jisung by his side.

"How much further?" Minho almost surprises himself by talking. His body reacted on instinct, the tiny Minho braincells in his head deciding that he was getting a little too sentimental and hitting the 'abort mission' button. Thinking about feelings? No thank you.

"That depends," comes Woojin's voice. His voice is a bit hard to hear, since he's at the front of their little party, and certainly doesn't make anything clearer.

Chan turns around to glance at Minho, but doesn't say anything again. Most likely he just doesn't know how to start. He probably wasn't expecting Minho to be here in the first place, and certainly not with almost-murderer Jisung trailing behind him. He studies Minho's face silently, and then continues to walk, making quiet conversation to Woojin as he goes.

Minho leans back. "Any idea what that means?"

Jisung shrugs. Minho looks up, before deciding that he doesn't care about sticking in their line formation (and really, what kind of idea what that anyway?) and falls into place beside him.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Woojin's led us past it three times already. Three dollars says he doesn't know the way either."

Jisung snorts into his palm, and Minho's glad that they've fallen far enough behind that Woojin can't hear them. "What are you talking about? He knows each tree in this forest personally, how dare you suggest he'd get them mixed up."

He points to a tree to prove his point. There's silence for not even a solid moment, before they pass a second tree that looks identical to the first, and can't hold back the laughter anymore.

Woojin immediately spins around to face them. His skin is pale, and Minho's laughter dies in his throat. Beside him, Jisung falls just as silent. When he speaks, his voice is nothing more than a hiss. " _Be quiet._ You don't want to know what'll happen if The Woods finds out we're here."

That's a lie.

They know exactly what The Woods will do if it finds out they're here.

Minho may not know all the details, but he's not stupid either. It's obvious from the way Hyunjin acts around Seungmin that they knew each other before. He'd seen the rage in Jisung's eyes at the skating rink, the fire in his body and every step of utter pain he took. The way his cheeks are smeared with mud and ash, the way Hyunjin's clothes still stink of smoke. 

He might not exactly know the power of The Woods, but he can imagine.

He's certainly not expecting Jisung to stiffen up beside him. They've begun walking again, but his every step is rigid and unnatural. "We don't need to be quiet."

Woojin frowns. "Jisung," he starts, "I just think... we need to be careful. I'm still so weak, and I can't protect all of you. I just- don't want you to get hurt."

"The Woods doesn't know we're here." Jisung replies. Minho can see the way he's biting his lip, the way his body shakes. He grabs his hand in response, squeezing in a way that he hopes is calming. It seems to work, as Jisung takes in a shuddering breath, closing his eyes briefly. "It's different, even when they're hiding."

Woojin simply looks at him. His face is expressionless, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "You're right," he says, "Forgive me. I'm just worried about Jeongin."

He stops, and Minho almost thinks he's finished talking. But that's not the case. "I let my anger get the best of me," he glances at Jisung, the quiet look of someone who's trying to let you know they understand, "and didn't apologise. I just need to know he's okay."

Hang on. Minho didn't know that Woojin and Jeongin had fought. It couldn't have been anything too serious - since no one could really get mad at Jeongin, he was just too cute – but the way Woojin was talking almost makes him rethink. 

He almost opens his mouth to speak, before very quickly deciding it's better if he just shuts up.

Evidently, everyone else thinks the same way. Woojin turns back, but doesn't start talking to Chan again. Jisung takes his place behind Minho again, and his feet drag through the leaves on the floor.

They walk in silence for a while longer. The shadows of the trees seem to get longer, reaching out like fingers with a really terrible manicure, and Minho can't help it when he begins to drift towards the centre of the path.

It's why he doesn't see why Chan and Woojin have begun to step to the side, until he's already passed through the line of trees.

They've reached a clearing. 

It's bright, compared to the rest of The Woods, and small patches of the sky are even visible through the tallest branches of the trees. It's not sunny. The smallest glimmer of light just sparkles amongst the trees, stars. bright in the unspoilt environment. The darkness of night should seem anything but light, but when compared to the shadows they've just travelled through, the clearing is practically glowing. 

In fact, as he steps closer and rubs his eyes, it  _is._

Fireflies hang frozen in the still air. Nothing is visible of them except the warm glow, occasionally darting from one spot to the next. They reflect the stars in the sky. Serene and endless, galaxies swirling above their heads and in front of their eyes, the rustling of the wind through the leaves leading him into a false sense of security.

It's beautiful.

If he closes his eyes, shuts his mind off, he could remember this place forever. He wants to; keeping this still frame of perfection close to his heart. In front of him, Jisung's eyes reflect the soft glow. They're so big and so innocent, and his mouth drops open in wonder. His skin is still covered in dirt and ash, his hair still matted to his head, the tear-tracks stunning against his cheeks.

He takes Minho's breath away.

"Let's move," murmurs Chan. He's standing by the edge of the clearing, clearly uncomfortable. He hasn't taken a step inside the boundary, where the dirt of the forest slips into the plush grass of the clearing.

It's surprising he hasn't gone after Woojin, Minho thinks.

He wasn't kidding when he'd called their distance a miracle. Back on Earth, back before any of this had even begun to happen, they'd been inseparable. It was nauseatingly sickening, but no one could deny that the soft touches and the glances couldn't be faked. They were so undeniably in love that it made Minho feel slightly ill.

But now, he's watching as their relationship takes a new turn. He's never been the best at reading people, and yet Chan and Woojin come naturally to him. They've been by his side for so long, he supposes, and their quirks have been ingrained into the mind. He can't tell what they're thinking by instinct, but because he's seen it all before.

This new turn isn't bad.

It's tentative. The quiet calls of longing. Their bodies crave to be together, but there's too much they've got to fight against. There's no time to sweet talk and apologise. Chan hangs back, keeps himself away, because once they've fallen into each other's arms, there's no way out. 

Woojin turns to face him. He's standing in Chan's way - or maybe Chan's stood behind him? - and blocking out his view of the centre of the clearing. Without speaking, he takes a step to the side.

In the middle of the clearing, surrounded by tiny purple flowers and reflecting every glimmer of every star, is a huge mirror

It's similar to the ones in The In-Between, but slightly larger. The same distinctive purple petals dip towards to glass, as if The Woods could only afford one type of plant. As he gets closer, incredibly aware of the raised hairs on the back of his neck, Minho think that the reflected colours are even brighter than in real life.

It draws him in.

Jisung is by his side, equally as enraptured. Together, they pick their way through the long grass, sending clouds of fireflies rising into the air. Woojin is behind him, just like Chan, but Minho's eyes are fixated now. He can't look away. With every step, more of the reflection becomes visible, and the more he thinks he doesn't want to know what's on the other side of the mirror.

But he can't look away.

Minho falls to his knees by the edge of the reflection. The leaves don't seem quite as green. The fireflies don't seem quite as bright. The grass is damp beneath his jeans, and when Jisung takes his hand, his skin is cold. 

He stares into the reflection, and he's still looking when Chan and Woojin join him. The four of them are sat in an almost-circle, all unable to take their eyes away from the mirror. The night sky seems to shift above them, a desperate reminder that they can't watch in horror for too long, that time is running out.

Jeongin stares back on him.

His clothes are damp in the same way as Minho's, jeans ruined with grass stains. The branches of the trees behind him are naked of any leaves, reduced to burnt and blackened twigs. His face is smudged with soot in the same way as Jisung's, that in turn has makes his skin seem pale and washed-out. He's different in a way that Minho can't identify.

"Jeongin?" Chan asks, the question that they'd all been thinking. It can't be -  _it can't_  - but Minho isn't dumb enough to kid himself into believing lies. The Woods is strong. It's powerful and cruel, but it doesn't know they're here.

This can't be a trick.

"Chan?" Jeongin's voice is filtered, as if he's speaking from the other side of a long-distance phone call. "Is that really you?"

Chan sobs. It's broken, and he sort of sounds like Doongie coughing up a furball, but the way he leans over to press his palms to the glass is haunting. His hands fog up the mirror, but don't reach in. Jeongin looks up as if he's already tried everything.

"It's me," Chan says, as his nails scramble over the smooth glass, trying desperately to find something – anything -that could let him in. "Innie, it's me. I remember, I remember everything, Innie-"

Woojin's eyes are just as large. He takes his chance to speak as Chan stops to gasp for air, leaning over and finally allowing Jeongin to see him. "Oh,  _by The Woods_ , Innie, I'm so sorry. I never meant to yell at you - I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." 

There are tears on his cheeks, Minho comes to the startling realisation. He's never seen Woojin cry before. He's never seen Woojin lose his composure before. Even when Chan had disappeared, he's been driven by certainty and stubbornness, walking with more precision than panic. But here, in a clearing in the middle of a forest, his tears mix with Chan's on the soft grass.

"Woojin?" Jeongin asks.

Minho is frozen in place. He can't move. There's nothing he can do, nothing he can feel except the endless numbness in his chest. It makes him feel ill, as if his stomach is trying to come first in a gymnastics competition.

He'd thought he was over all this. After the skating rink, he hadn't even considered running into anyone else. For once, his mind had been devoid of escape routes. But sat in the dark of the clearing, knees pressed into the ground, he can't keep his hands from shaking. He can't let Jeongin see him.

Jisung takes his hand.

He can't know what Minho's going through, the whole bathroom incident proved that, but he's  _trying_.

Together, they move. Jisung goes first, leaning further over the mirror than Minho's frozen limbs would ever allow him, but then he's  _moving as well_. His mind is suspended in fear and anxiety, but Jisung guides him as if none of that exists.

His hair is visible in the reflection now, then his eyes, then his whole face. Jeongin's lip waters when he sees Minho is there as well, goes to speak not knowing that every word is pushing him further and further away.

Jisung gets there first. "What happened?" He asks, with the directness of the only person out of the four of them who's never met him before. "Was- was it The Woods?"

Jeongin looks away. On their side of the mirror, Chan's fingers slowly come to a stop. There's no trace of his desperation on the glass at all. "I tried to make it right."

"Make what right?"

"Why didn't you stay in The In-Between?" asks Chan, speaking over Jisung. His face is an ugly shade of pink, and it only makes his bleach-blond hair stand out even more.

That gets more of a rection out of him. "Would you?" Jeongin counters. Considering that from what Minho's worked out about what happened to Chan, it's safe to say that the question doesn't need to be answered. "I couldn't stay- I just  _couldn't_. You walked away from me as I meant nothing."

"Innie-"

"And I  _know_ you didn't remember, you don't have toexplain, but that didn't make it hurt any less."

He pauses, letting it sink in, before continuing, "And I made a mistake, I know that, you don't have to tell me. I've ruined everything." His eyes are just as red as Chan and Woojin's now, and with every word his voice trembles a little more. "Why are you here? Why didn't you just leave me?"

"What did you do?" Jisung cuts in before anyone else can answer, effectively stopping that path of conversation in its tracks. "We're running out of time. What- what did you have to make right?"

Jeongin looks at Jisung. He takes in his soot-stained cheeks, the blood on his clothes. He looks past that, in a way Minho almost thinks seems like he's looking  _past_  Jisung. "You're Jisung?"

It hurts to see how Jisung flinches. "Yeah."

"It was supposed to be you."

Chan takes a shuddering intake of breath at that, causing everyone to look at him. "We made a deal," he says, when the stares become expectant, "with Hyunjin and Seungmin, before everything started to go wrong. In exchange for safe passage to Earth, they let us have Jisung as the third member of the Fated Three."

"Have?" Minho is unable to keep the disdain out of his voice.

"Not like that! From the what they told us, Jisung wasn't happy in Eden. They thought that maybe if we were there for him, he'd be happy. I didn't agree with it, but- Changbin knew it was our only option."

Jisung's eyes go wide at this information. Minho wonders if he knew that, or whether this circle is turning into a sharing therapy session.

"But," Woojin turns to Jeongin, "I'm guessing that didn't happen. Innie, you're glowing."

Jeongin smiles. It's half-hearted and sad, and Minho feels completely empty. He's been drained of all emotion, as if they'd never existed in the first place. "I already said; I made a mistake. I found something that wasn't meant for me – a cassette tape – and it told me how to leave Earth. The Woods didn't know they had the wrong person originally, but they must do now."

He looks around himself. The expanse of the reflection is pretty limited from how they're all leaning over it, but it can't be much bigger from what they can see. A burnt wold, and a lonely boy.

"That wasn't your fault." Jisung shakes his head adamantly, biting his lip. "I should have listened. Seungmin was  _going_  to give it to me, and- and I  _tried to kill him instead._ If the cassette ended up with you, that's better than anything I could have given it."

"No." Jeongin isn't letting Jisung talk him out of this. He can't stand up for fear of moving out of the reflection, but his hands are digging into his thighs, leaving tiny crescent-shaped moons on his skin. Minho's own palms reflect the scars, remainders of years of uncontrollable anxiety. "It was supposed to be you. Not me. It was never supposed to be me, can't you se-"

"Can't I see what? When I had the cassette, I had just burnt my home to the ground. I couldn't move my own body, because The Woods was pushing me towards this... this uncontainable anger. Everything was red and horrible and- if I'd had the power to join then, The Woods would have already won."

"No, that- that's not right. I'm stopping everyone by being here. I don't fit with the power, everything is wrong, and I don't fit with  _you._ "

"And? Isn't that a good thing?"

Jeongin freezes. "But-"

Chan cuts in. "He's right. Everything's happened so quickly, but if Jisung fit the Fated Three better, there's a good chance that the fight would be over by now. The Woods had full control of his body, full control of my memories, and full control of Changbin's very  _soul_. If he did fit, like you said, Earth would have been destroyed a long time ago."

It makes sense.

Minho thinks it over, thinks of his three cats still in his home back on Earth. He thinks of the peeling paint at the skating rink. He thinks of the melting tarmac of the park, and the familiar metal gates of school.

He hates it.

He hates life on Earth.

He hates the monotony, the mind-numbing anxiety and the looming deadlines. He wants this summer to last forever, with the blue skies and the endless heatwaves. He hates being forced into a mould he doesn't fit.

And at the same time, he can't imagine life without it.

"But I can't even do that right!" Jeongin says, "I can't do anything without making a mistake!"

There's something else, that he isn't telling them. The reason why he's trapped behind this world of glass. Woojin seems to catch on as well, "Jeongin. What did you do?"

"I tried to make them back."

The clearing is silent. The buzzing of the fireflies has stilled, and the wind had dropped to nothing. The air is cool, making Minho's skin prickle with the contrast to the warm nights of Earth. Or maybe, as he his heart skins, it's the sick anticipation of dread, of whatever Jeongin's about to say next.

"What?"

"I tried to make them take it back. I thought- The Woods knew I wasn't right, Chan, they were so angry, and so I made them take the power back. Except-" he gestures to himself, to the ashes on the ground and soot in his hair, "It didn't work. I'm still connected. The Woods is confused and desperate. It didn't want me to leave."

There's silence, again. No one knows quite what to say, least of all Minho. His mind is empty, torn half-way between apologies and pity, to running away as fast as he can. Jisung is shaking beside him. His trousers are coated in mud as well as ash now, leaving almost no trace of their original colour behind. Chan looks just as ruined as well, the bags beneath his eyes slowly shaping his face to what Minho knows is more familiar.

Woojin shakes his head.

He's recovered from the cracks in his appearance earlier. All evidence of his tears is gone. There's no time for crying, not when they're so close. "Right," he takes in one shuddering breath, closing his eyes briefly, before clenching his jaw, "Jeongin, how much of your power is left?"

"What? Some, I guess. My powers were never quite right in the beginning, so they're even worse now."

"Can you still feel the mirrors at The In-Between?"

Jeongin freezes, and Woojin takes the chance to continue, "You were never supposed to be able to use them in the first place, right? So if you're even more unstable now, are you still connected?"

There's a pause. Then- Jeongin's whole body flickers, rapidly changing from translucent to solid in just a few seconds. It continues, Minho's breath caught in his throat, before Jeongin is back, gasping and eyes shining. "Yes," he heaves, "I can."

Woojin stands up. "And you can hold it?" he waits until he gets a nod of confirmation, before pulling Chan to his feet as well. Minho and Jisung exchange glances, but get to their feet as well. 

"Woojin-"

Jisung is ignored. Woojin looks directly into Jeongin's eyes. There's no smile on his face, uncharacteristically serious, but it's reassuring nevertheless. "We'll meet you there," he says, voice low, "I promise. I won't leave you this time.  _We_  won't leave you this time."

Jeongin nods.

And with that, they turn away, beginning the journey back to The In-Between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what happened to this being minho pov??? who knows.
> 
> check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/sunnyesque) for random updates on what i'm writing next


	33. Chapter 33

 

 

**THE IN-BETWEEN**   
  
  


Seungmin's feet hit the ground in The In-Between, and the world seems silent. He hadn't realised how loud it was in Eden. The roar of the flames, the howling of the wind, and The Woods screaming in his mind. He's underestimated how heard it would be to return. Although his mind may be free from the control of the trees, it had been so desperately to keep his body from spasming. The cold metal of his limbs had grown warm from the flames, and The Woods pulled on the seeds it had sewn into his frozen limbs.

He fought.

Hyunjin was beside him after all. Together, they'd created a force strong enough that he could fight, and once they'd reached Felix, it had become so much easier. The headache had lessened, his body had cooled, and he'd had more important things to concentrate on.

Like Changbin, standing too far away for him to reach in time. Felix was so barely close, but he was fighting just as much as Seungmin was. As he'd swung his arm out, they'd understood each other, the pounding in their heads finally beginning to cease. But Changbin had stood in the ash, unaffected by the fire and the wind.

He didn't fight. Seungmin didn't know whether it was because he didn't want to, or that he  _couldn't_. His own body could barely resist the pull, and that was with his mind free. Changbin wasn't just a body born from The Woods. It was his entire being and soul.

He stared into the fire, eyes empty, and Seungmin was being pulled back before he could even cry out.

For a second, he hadn't thought they were all going to make it.

But Felix had turned. In a split second, his body had spun around, and he'd reached out. Further than Seungmin could see. he was already too far backwards to make out the expression on Felix's face, or how Changbin's eyes had widened as he woke up. The smoke had melted into clouds, and Seungmin's feet had hit the ground in The In-Between.

Hyunjin stumbles forwards in front of him. They're all slightly off balance from the force of the return, but Seungmin doesn't have enough time to waste staggering around. He spins in a clean motion, ignoring how the screaming in his head is only fainter, not completely gone, and grins.

Felix.

He's covered in ash, which makes sense considering he'd been standing further into the fire that Seungmin, and brings the distinctive smell of smoke with him. He's standing up straight. More confident than the image Seungmin's weak mind places into his head, and his eyes are practically dancing with life.

Seungmin still doesn't remember him, much. It's coming back slowly, but slowly isn't fast enough. He just hopes that Felix isn't expecting some sort of grand reunion, and that Hyunjin's delayed apology makes up for what he doesn't even remember he's done. He's never been too nervous about the future, always more preoccupied with the past and that itch at the back of his memories. But now his skin crawls with anticipation.

In a strange way, this is the most human he's ever felt.

It's uncomfortable. The heat from Eden is just beginning to fade from the metal of his bones, revelling in that strange sense of deja-vu. His blood hums around his body, throbbing with power and adrenaline. The last few moments keep replaying in his mind, the way his eyes had seemed damp. The way, for a second, he'd stopped breathing out of fear.

In the end, none of his fears ever see the light of day. Hyunjin's mouth opens to apologise, Felix turns to face Seungmin and ask him more uncomfortable questions. But behind them, just where the last of the smoke is diffusing away, Changbin falls to his knees.

"Bin-" Felix is by his side in an instant, kneeling beside him and letting him rest on his shoulder. Changbin's head is tilted towards the ground, his dark fringe hanging over his eyes, but what Seungmin sees makes him take a step backwards anyway.

Changbin's eye is glowing.

It's dark blue. The iris around his pupil is a vivid, unmistakable dark blue. The colour isn't stable either, flickering and flashing with every beat of Changbin's heart, shaking into the normal brown and then coming back at full force. It's much, much brighter than Seungmin's own eye, but that doesn't stop him from raising his hand in front of his face any way.

He doesn't quite know how he feels when his hand isn't lit up in familiar light pink.

But he doesn't get the chance to think too much about it. Hyunjin takes his hand, and then they're skidding across the grass to join them, falling to their knees as well. Changbin's gone almost completely limp in Felix's arms, but his hands haven't stopped shaking. They flutter with the same intensity as the flashing in his eye, and only seem to be increasing in severity.

"What do we do?" Felix asks as soon as they're on the ground beside him, "What- what was it that you did in Eden?"

Seungmin has to think for a second. "The balancing?"

"Whatever you call it- was that what made The Woods stop controlling me?"

It takes him only a few moments after that to work out what Felix is talking about. Changbin hadn't seemed to affected by their combined presence, but that could just be because The Woods was cutting its losses. It if had given up on Felix, maybe it was focussing all its power on Changbin. The boy born from leaves and mud, the boy whose very soul it had created.

So how to they break the connection? What had worked before? The contact of their fingers - skin to skin - and the further they got away from the trees. Seungmin looks up, even though he knows what he'll see behind Hyunjin. They're too close to the border of trees. They need to get away.

"Help me move him," he says, not enough time to explain when every second is precious. Felix doesn't ask, anyway. Together, the three of them struggle to lift Changbin's body of the floor, dragging him towards the centre of the field. He's surprisingly light, and they make good progress almost immediately.

"Felix."

Hyunjin's voice cuts through the rest, as if they're not struggling to move an unconscious body, as if they're not already struggling for time. But, Seungmin squints at him, and he knows this is tearing Hyunjin apart. They're struggling for time, yes, and that's exactly why he's got to do it now. He won't be able to live with himself if he gets taken away again.

Felix looks up, concern painted on every one of his features. He stumbles slightly in his haste to reply, feet catching on an uneven patch of grass. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

That stops him moving. Felix freezes in his tracks, eyes wide and hands fumbling. He almost loses his hold on Changbin, and Seungmin only just manages to stop him from dropping to the ground in time. "We've got to keep moving," he hisses when no one else goes to speak again. It's harsh, but it works.

"Hyunjin-" Felix says, when they're back in the rhythm of shuffle-step shuffle-step, avoiding the flowers with clumsy feet and keeping a wide distance from the mirrors dotted around the field. "You didn't mean to, right? Tell me you didn't mean to."

"I didn't mean to." Felix seems to shrink a little at that, and Hyunjin rushes to continue. "The Woods saved Hyunjin's life, but for a price. They wanted to kill me as welling as... changing him. I couldn't return, and I thought- I thought Jisung would..."

Seungmin doesn't quite know he feels being spoken about like this, as if he isn't here right beside them, but he knows Hyunjin means no harm with his words. They'd have this same conversation alone, but that just isn't possible right now. Either way, the words need to be spoken, and it's not like Seungmin feels enough to be embarrassed by the whole situation.

"Jisung?" Felix asks. It's really been a while since they last spoke. So much has happened in such little time. The two diverging memories in Seungmin's head only seem to agree with that, sending another spike of pain through his mind as if they'd been listening. "I'd guessed something went wrong, when you didn't return. Did he- he was the one to set Eden on fire the first time?"

Hyunjin nods. "But-"

"It wasn't really him," Felix continues, shooting him a knowing look. "I know, I've worked out a lot by myself, and what Woojin told me filled in most of the blanks. You don't have to explain everything. I'm not stupid."

"Then you know that's not what I meant." The response is smooth, much too calm and well thought-out than what Seungmin has grown to expect from Hyunjin. "I'm sorry. Please, Felix, you've got to know I'm sorry. I was stupid, and selfish, and- and I know I hurt you a lot in the past. I'm sorry."

"Aren't we all?"

Seungmin frowns. He almost wants to jump into the conversation, remind them that he's still there and ask Felix to explain what he meant, but Changbin stirs in their arms. A quick look around confirms that they're more or less in the centre of the field. They place him on the floor slowly, crouching down beside him to press their fingers onto his exposed arms.

Skin-to-skin contact.

It has to work.

"I- What happened here?"

Chan's voice cuts through the silence cleanly, taking away the last few threads of a chance Seungmin had at questioning Felix. The meaning behind his words drift away into the air like flakes of ash or soot.

"Changbin?" Chan comes around their side quickly, kneeling down next to his unmoving body. He takes in the scene, eyes flashing from one person to the next, and then finally to where their hands are pressed against Changbin's skin. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know," says Felix, voice small for the first time. This version of him seems to flicker, fading away for a second and melting back into the shadow of a boy Seungmin's mind seems to recognise. It's brief, barely there, but that's still more than enough for Seungmin to notice.

"He'll be fine," he finds himself saying. "We just need to-"

But they're already moving. Woojin is by his side in an instant, and Minho and Jisung are crouched by Changbin's legs. They each lean over, finding a bare piece of skin and pressing their fingers against it. He groans at the touch, shifting again, and even Seungmin can't help but smile at the movement. It's working. It's  _working._

But that's not enough.

He's stirring, but even like this he's never fully break free from the grasp of The Woods. There simply isn't enough power between them, and not even Woojin's presence is enough to tear Changbin away. The Woods is focusing all its energy to this one point, this one moment in time and space, and they're just not strong enough to fight against it.

Seungmin sits up a little straighter.

The two sides of his mind converging into one is making it a little hard to think, but he's sure there's something missing. Some _one_? Jeongin - he isn't here - where is he? He has no doubt that Chan and Woojin found him, both his lives have proved that they won't have given up if they hadn't, but where is he?

Chan shifts.

From where he'd been frozen in place, he finally moves again. He reaches out before thinking, towards Changbin's arm, and the air fills with electricity a second too late for any of them to notice. It's thick with power, static charge flying from one person to the next, and yet everything happens at once.

As soon as Chan makes contact, they're thrown backwards.

The word fills with a blinding white light. It blocks out Seungmin's vision, leaving his head spinning and vision blurry. The ground is soft, just damp enough that none of them could have been hurt from the impact, but none of that matters. When the initial flash has disappeared, all Seungmin can see is the remnants of colours left on his eyelids.

Blue and red.

Changbin and Chan.

"Chan!" Woojin is the first one to his feet, pushing himself up off the floor while the rest of them are just beginning to sit up, disorientated. He stumbles on his way to where Chan is sat. The intensity of the light has only just begun to fade, and none of their hearts will stop racing for a while.

Chan doesn't respond. Seungmin thinks he's still in shock, for a second, but quickly realises that isn't the case. He doesn't seem to have been affected as much as the rest of them, and is instead sitting up straight, staring at his hands with wide eyes. His curly blonde hair now falls curly against his forehead. Seungmin's two colliding worlds get a little closer.

"Are you okay? Chan?" Woojin repeats. He crouches next to him, one hand resting on his knee.

Chan looks back at him. His hands are shaking now, but at least he's stopped staring as if he's never seen fingers before. "Woojin..." he whispers, shifting so their palms are now pressed against each other, "It's back."

"What's back?" Seungmin is still the most conscious out of the rest of them, so he takes the responsibility of asking the questions. He's not sure Minho and Jisung know, but either way, he's fed up with secrets. If it's important, they should all know. No more hiding.

"The Woods left me," Chan says when he turns to face him. "Before we split up, just after I got my memories back, the connection was cut. When we found Jeongin in The Woods, he confirmed it. It tried to make a new Fated Three, but it didn't work."

All eyes go to the border of trees. Seungmin's skin crawls at the thought of such close contact, and he can't help but feel glad that they're as far away as they could possibly be. If he thinks too hard, he can still feel flames on his skin. They burn much deeper than when he'd pulled Felix from Eden, and the shadow of a figure in front of his eyes is different. The ghost of cold metal sheets still clings to his skin.

"When you touched Changbin, they reformed the connection." Woojin finishes, once it becomes clear that Chan isn't about to say anything more. "But why? What about Jeongin? I thought they were done with you. I thought you were  _safe_."

"They couldn't get to Felix anymore."

The voice doesn't come from the outside of the circle. It's neither Chan, nor Woojin, nor Seungmin. They'd all been stirring from the blast of light, and it had gone unnoticed 'all' really did mean all.

Changbin sits up. His voice is hoarse, teeth stained black from smoke and ash. He coughs a few times after speaking, wincing as he shifts in place, and rubbing his eyes in response the bright sky of The In-Between. "I felt it too. In Eden, it was Felix, Jeongin and I. But Jeongin was weak, and as soon as we left through the portal, The Woods couldn't keep hold on all of us anymore." He smiles weakly, "I guess that's a good thing."

"How is that a good thing!" Hyunjin exclaims. He looks from Felix to Changbin indignantly, as if he's thought about this for hours more than the three seconds Seungmin expects is the reality. "Why is Chan better than Felix? I thought we had it under control?"

"I understand the power better than Felix," Chan says. Hyunjin breathes in sharply, before slumping slightly.

"I don't understand," he says "I just- I don't understand any of this." Seungmin wants to get closer to him. He wants so hold Hyunjin tight, wants to follow him to the ends of the Earth and protect him from anything that might cause him harm. And at the same time, it's like he's been doused in cold water. Hyunjin makes him feel alive, he makes his heart flutter like hummingbird wings, but he also  _hurts_. He can't expect their relationship to be perfect immediately, not when Seungmin still can't work out what’s real or not. 

"I've had the power before," Chan says, tactfully not commenting on the way Hyunjin has curled into himself. "I know how to work with Changbin, and we were part of the original Fated Three. As far as I can tell, I was the ideal candidate from Earth. That's why it didn't work when Jeongin was there, since it wasn't 'equal'. The Woods wanted Felix because he's from Eden."

"But what about now?" Felix asks. He looks down at his hands as if he's expecting to see something there. Then he looks back, scanning the small circle that's formed around Changbin, counting under his breath. "Where is Jeongin, then?"

Seungmin's mind explodes in pain again. It doesn't last as long this time, so he manages to school his expression into one of neutrality.  _Jeongin_. Half of his mind is asking how he could have every forgotten about the younger boy, but it's the same part that's cold and numb. The same half of him that's made of unforgiving metal. 

No one goes to reply.

If Seungmin had a sinking feeling before, then there are no words to describe the way he feels when he sees the glances they exchange. Jeongin - flashes of hot pavements and shops, the strange familiarity of knowing he was always on the other side of the glass. He remembers hitting the ground hard, and he remembers Jeongin's hands plugging him back into power. It makes the back of his neck burn. His mind still won't accept the socket that rests there, and that only makes shooting pains worse.

"We left him behind."

Of course, it's Minho that speaks. Chan and Woojin are still biting their lips, and Jisung stands too afraid of the bubbling anger inside him. But Minho has no such worries. His voice is strong and unwavering, and if Seungmin wasn't upgraded in every way possible, his eyes wouldn't have been able to notice the way his hands shake. 

"What?"

"We left him in The Woods. He couldn't come with us, so we decided it was best that we left him behind."

The stunned silence again, Seungmin practically deafened by the rush of blood to his ears. They left him? Jeongin, the youngest out of them all, and they just left him?

Woojin nudges Minho gently, "Don't take it just from him, we didn't leave him by choice."

"What happened?" Seungmin finds himself saying. He hadn't realised it before, but he's now the only one from Earth that doesn't know why Jeongin isn't here. Hyunjin shifts beside him, finally re-joining the circle. He doesn't get too close to Seungmin, but their sides press up against each other. The contact is soothing. For a second, Seungmin's mind is on fire with the familiarity of it all, and then there's nothing. 

"He gave up the power of the Fated Three. That's why The Woods could take Chan instead of him as the representative from Earth," Woojin explains. He takes a few steps backwards, and the rest of them follow him without really realising. Within a few seconds, they've gathered around a mirror instead.

The reflection seems to shimmer.

It's still the sky, the very edges of the purple flowers brushing against the surface, but something doesn't seem right. This is one of the larger mirrors in The In-Between. But as Seungmin looks closer, the glass seems to shift with the wind. Maybe it's his imagination, but it seems to ripple in places, and the view of the sky seems to get brighter. The clouds are different shapes, maybe, or the grass is slightly too long.

Woojin continues. "Jeongin gave up his power to give to Jisung, but not all of it left his body. The Woods wasn't expecting that. To keep the balance, it trapped him in a mirror."

"What?" Felix looks horrified. He doesn't even know Jeongin, and yet the look of shock on his face makes Seungmin's insides twist. He bites his lip, ignoring the fact that only half of his mouth hurts. The pain in his head begins to claw at the rest of his body again.

They all gaze down at the mirror. Seungmin doesn't quite know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. The glass seems to ripple again, and maybe for a second, there's nine people gazing into the reflection rather than eight.

"Where is he, then?"

"The Woods is still too strong here," Chan is the first one to step back. His eyes are steely, shoulders pushed back. "We need to act quickly."

"The balance," murmurs Hyunjin. He takes his place beside Seungmin again, but doesn't get too close. He hadn't missed the way Seungmin had flinched earlier, and that's something he's thankful for. 

Since no one asks, Seungmin assumes they all must know by this point. One by one, they each stand up, nails digging into palms and eyes cast downwards. This is it. This is really happening.

"So, what are we going to do?" Jisung asks.

"The Woods works on a basis of using the three realities to stabilise itself. If we put enough pressure on Earth and Eden separately, putting enough people where they're not supposed to be, it might just work."

"A combination of balance and imbalance." Chan mutters. He looks up, taking in each person in the circle. "We need to work out who'd be the best to oppose each other on the opposite side of the circle."

Hyunjin takes a step backwards beside Seungmin.

"That's easy enough," he says, crossing over the mirror to stand opposite him. Their eyes meet for a split-second. "We're both from Eden originally. We're close enough to create a balance, we were both supposed to be killed by The Woods, and-" he pauses slightly, and when he speaks again his voice is slightly quieter, "Seungmin learnt to speak up, while I learned to quieten down."

"So did Felix," inputs Seungmin, the shock making him talk and the lack of any other reply keeping his mouth shut.

But Woojin is nodding. "No, I think that makes sense. Besides, I think Felix would be a much better match with Minho."

Minho raises his eyebrows, surprised. He looks Felix up and down, as if seeing him for the first time. Which, Seungmin frowns and tries to resist the urge to rub his temples, it might actually be. "Me?"

"You're from Earth, and Felix is from Eden. You both made friends with someone you weren't supposed to, and let them take you somewhere you weren't supposed to be. You were the first ones to resist the power of The Woods."

"The cat..." says Felix. Seungmin doesn't understand what that could possibly mean, but Minho's eyes go wide in understanding. He nods silently, and shuffles to the side of Hyunjin. Felix takes his place beside Seungmin just as quietly.

The remaining four have also moved, but this time to face both groups. Chan and Woojin's shoulders bush occasionally, just frequently enough for Seungmin to hope it's a sign of alliance. Jisung is stood a few steps away from them, wringing his hands together, and Changbin is stood incredibly still. His face is still pale.

"Maybe Changbin and I?" Chan offers, when no one else goes to contributes. "We've had the power for the longest, so it makes sense that you'd want one of us on either side. There's not many similarities other than that, but it's the best I've got."

Changbin frowns. He looks like he's about to add something, but Woojin gets there before him. "That works. It leaves Jisung and I, which makes sense as well."

In one smooth motion, he takes Changbin's arm and pulls the younger boy towards Hyunjin, leaving Chan and Jisung to make their way to Seungmin and Felix. The rising sense of anticipation in the air hits a new level. The very air seems charged, the mirror in front of them shimmers, and the leaves at the border around them begin to rustle.  
  
"It does?" says Jisung, maybe to himself, maybe not. Maybe he's trying to delay the inevitable, but maybe he wants to understand for once. 

Woojin nods. He smiles from across the mirror, though Seungmin can't ignore the way his eyes linger on Chan for a fraction of a second too long. "The creator and the destroyer. The beginning of the end, and the end of the beginning."

"Destroyer?"

Woojin's voice softens at the panic in Jisung's tone. "You'll be fine. It's too late to change the path now."

Jisung hesitates, before nodding. He glances to the mirror - to where they're all waiting for the boy who took his place - and when he looks up, there's nothing less than determination in his eyes. The anger is gone, but so is the fear. "I'm ready."

The Woods is angry.

Seungmin can feel the heat on the back of his neck.

He can hear the roar of a fire, but it sounds like it's so far away. The world is muted, burning so bright, and yet no one can look away from the mirror in front of them. There might be ash in the air - great black flakes of burning leaves - or it could be the spots dancing in front of his eyes.

On instinct, they line up. It's getting warmer, so much more like Earth in terms of temperature, but the sky is just as cloudy as Eden. 

"I'm ready," repeats Jisung, further away than the fire crawling up Seungmin's back, and the gasp he lets out shortly after is even quieter. 

The heat shifts.

The Woods is angry, burning in rage and fury, uncontrollable hatred. The leaves are getting closer, straying over the boundary, but they're too late.

There's the figure of a boy in the mirror.

It's hard to see through the rapidly smoke-filling air, the heat causing the trees in front of him to warp and shimmer. In the mirror, the boy looks up. He's sat by the edge, that much Seungmin can work out, but his face is obscured. 

Everything is hot, burning brighter and brighter. With the rising heat, the pain in his head returns, two train tracks colliding into each other with the force of a thousand suns. Seungmin almost stumbles forwards, but finds his legs have been frozen to the ground.

Reality around them is being torn apart.

Seungmin can feel it pulling at his skin, the same feeling he'd felt whilst lying unconscious on the woodland floor. It tugs at his sides, needles into his body and forces his very being apart.

He can barely open his eyes now. The light has grown too powerful. At first, he thinks it's from the fire, but that's not quite right. It's - it's  _surrounding_  them. Brilliant white, bleeding out from the seven boys beside him, only made brighter by the shadow of the boy in the mirror. Maybe it’s not the world falling apart, but him.

The Woods screams.

Jeongin, in the mirror, smiles.

And the world disappears in a flash of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this is a bit late! 
> 
> i had such a visual picture of what i wanted this chapter to be in my head, but when i wrote it, it ended up... flat. 
> 
> please leave a comment if you enjoyed! i love seeing what people think, and it really inspires me to write faster haha


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I strongly recommend you to watch the egoist mv if you haven't already
> 
> edit: i've re-written most of the end of this chapter, so it should make more sense! hopefully less confusing this time lmao

**THE ENDING**

 

Much like how it didn't begin on Earth in a seemingly endless summer, it doesn't end there either. 

It does, however, end with the world on fire.

Eden is in ruins, but maybe it has always been that way. It was always more the people than the place, and the ashes of the walls that contained them have only just stopped smouldering for the second time. 

The empty fields of The In-Between are just that: empty. The last few traces of a blinding flash of light disappear. Eight sets of footprints press into the soft grass, but there's nothing to stop the wind from blowing petals over the abandoned shapes. A mirror glints in the middle of an empty cycle, and reflects nothing but the sky.

It doesn't end with The Woods, though it is certainly caused by them. A butterfly flaps its wings somewhere between the trees, and it leaves with the peculiar taste of irony in its mouth. A chain of events connects The Woods to where it actually ends, but nothing more than that.

It ends in the same place that it started, and Jisung's feet move without him even telling them to.

His eyes are closed, head still reeling from just how intense the flash of light had been, but his feet haven't seemed to have gotten the message. He's taking careful steps forwards. The world seems to bend in front of him, matching his pace, and he finds that he's afraid of what he might see if he does open his eyes.

How can he know the way?

It feels like instinct, that his feet are guiding his body, and yet he has no recollection of ever being here before. How could he have been? He's lived his entire life in the shadows, the corners of Eden only ever brightened up by his painted brush-strokes. And this certainly isn't Eden. The sound of his feet on the floor is all wrong. 

The light begins to drain from behind his eyelids. The faint outline of seven - eight? - other figures remain imprinted in his vision, but it's not nearly as powerful now. The fear of looking ebbs away at the same time, and Jisung finds his eyes opening anyway. Just like how his feet seem to know exactly when to step, it feels like there's nothing he could have done to stop himself from looking. 

He frowns where he sees where he is.

A car-park. That's the word that comes to his mind, anyway, because it's not like Jisung knows what a car-park is. The knowledge certainly isn't his, and he frowns not only at the sight of the walls around him, but also how unfamiliar the word feels in his mouth. He knows that must be where he is, because that's what his mind is telling him. But he can't work out  _how_  his mind is telling him that.

It's much too grey here for Jisung. He still thinks in the bright colours of his paints, and the car-park has none of them. White markings on the ground, grey concrete pillars to match the grey walls and grey ceiling. It fades into black in some places, not quite shadows but not quite anything else Jisung can identify. 

And so Jisung frowns.

Why is he here?

And more importantly, how did he get here?

The last thing he remembers is standing in The In-Between. Minho looking at him, smiling, and then the flash of light. He remembers being unable to move. He'd tried to raise his hand to protect his eyes, but his body had stayed frozen in place, and the light had blinded him anyway.

And then he was here, walking without even realising it, and completely alone. 

At some point, he must have turned around to face the rest of the car-park. His feet have stopped moving by themselves now, thank goodness, but when he takes a step backwards, something cold and hard presses itself up against his back. It startles him, breaks him out of his thoughts, and he's expecting something rather more exciting than a ladder when he spins around to face it. 

The rungs are clean of rust, and the same shade of grey as the concrete walls it has been fixed onto. It doesn't quite reach the floor, hanging a few inches into the air, and- Jisung looks up, craning his neck towards the sky - it only appears to lead into the shadows. There's no hatch or hole in the ceiling, no glimpse of sky. There's simply darkness, and the cold metal rungs leading upwards forever. 

He takes the first one in his hand.

Just like when his feet were moving by themselves, he finds himself climbing upwards without really meaning to. The feeling of the metal beneath his skin is painful. His fingers almost hiss when they press against it, the temperature difference between the two of them causing him to flinch away.

He hadn't even realised how warm he was.

But now, when he presses his palms to the rungs, there's no mistaking it. The heat inside of him is familiar, and twists his stomach into knots. It's fiery. He's not just warm, he's burning up. There's no way-  _there's no way_  - but he's a bright crimson against the grey walls in front of him.

There's no way.

There's no way that The Woods could be here.

And yet, he's not as horrified at the idea of he knows he should be. 

The grey walls seem to push him into himself, dulling down his emotions and painting him in apathy. His nails dig into his palms, hooked over the metal rungs, and yet he can barely feel the sting. The shadows on the ceiling seems to reach down, picking him up and holding him close.

It's cold in the car-park, but Jisung is burning warm. He's on fire, so many shades of red all melting into one. He's bright against the grey, lighting up the world around him, and he hates every second of it. 

His feet are still moving, and he soon realises that his hands are as well. Slowly, he's pulling himself up the rungs and towards the shadows. Towards - whatever's at the top of the ladder. He's moving, pulled like a puppet on a string, and Jisung looks up.

It's dark.

There's nothing below him, nothing more than the concrete floor and the chipped white markings. Above him, he can still barely see. The shadows have obscured any glimpse of the final few rungs, and it's impossible to make out where the wall ends and the ceiling begins. It's almost as if his eyes have closed again, as he realises he now cannot see at all.

But he can  _feel._

There's a breeze that brushes against his cheeks. Faint, and he doubts he would have noticed it in another situation, but now it feels like a breath of fresh air. He pauses in his climbing, waiting for the wind to blow again, and-

There, just a few metres above him. He practically flies up the last few rungs. The metal still burns his skin, but he's become used to the pain by now, and the incentive of leaving the numb, grey car-park is far too strong. 

It takes a few seconds, but then suddenly he's fumbling in thin air. The hand that he'd raised to pull himself up further grasps at nothing, fingertips hanging empty, and he almost topples backwards. There's a second of nausea. He's never missed his eyesight this much, dangling precariously mid-air, but one of his feet catches on the ladder. 

Heart pounding, he clings to the wall.

It burns his skin, now that it's not just his palms pressed to the metal. His arms as well, and part of his cheek. The hissing is so much louder now, but he finds himself still unable to move. His body is frozen in place, and yet still burning up with the heat of a thousand fires. 

His other foot is still hanging free, the ladder nowhere in sight. Slowly, he brings it closer towards him. He searches for the correct rung in slow-motion, and it's only when he's safely located it that he allows himself to relax. His skin is still burning, but he pushes past the pain. With a rapidly-clearing head, he forces himself to start climbing again.

The breeze gets closer, tugging at his hair as if directing him. It takes a good few seconds, but then-

Jisung's hand misses the ladder.

His body freezes again, ready to cling to the metal structure for dear life. There's a sickening rush of adrenaline through his body. His stomach drops three stories, and it takes him a moment to realise what must have happened.

He reaches out again.

Sure enough, the ladder hasn't disappeared. It's  _ended._ Despite his shaking legs, he pulls himself up and out of what he's now realising looks like an elevator shaft. It's more of a crawl than anything, the repeated shock combined with the burning of his skin draining him of any energy he might have had.

The gravel scrapes his stomach where his t-shirt has risen up, and with one last kick he manages to push himself completely free from the ladder. His heart is pounding in his head, face pressed to the ground. Jisung resists the urge to pull himself into a ball.

Everything hurts.

It's so numb that he's not even sure whether he's imagining the pain or not, and at the same time it's the most agony he's ever been in.

A vague memory claws at the back of his mind. It reminds him to breathe, with the softest brush of fingertips to his skin. There's a voice in his mind, even if he can't quite work out who's speaking to him.

Breathe, Jisung,  _breathe_.

He takes a shuddering breath. Breathe. His mind travels from his toes to his fingertips, taking in the painful reality and pushing past the cloudiness of his thoughts. Breathe. His eyes are still squeezed tightly shut, and he begins to open them, repeating the mantra in his head. 

Breathe.

The sky is dark, but the contrast to the black of the ladders means his eyes adjust quickly. The gravel is sore against his raw palms, but his beating heart has sent such a rush of blood to his head that he can't get up. 

Instead, he stares at his skin. At the places burning bright red. Like he's spilt paint on them, a flaming crimson. They sting, yes, but the fire could never be as strong as the one in his soul.

He rolls over onto his side, anything to get some relief from the pain. The ground brushes his cheek as he moves, sending whole new shock-waves of agony shooting through his body, but once he's on his back, any complaints he may have had catch in his throat.

It's beautiful.

Eden was cloudy. Always cloudy, the world becoming an inescapable mist just beyond the twisted iron gates. Whenever Jisung had looked up before, he'd been greeted with grey and white swirl, occasionally dipping into midnight blue or black. 

But not here.

Here - wherever 'here' is - the sky looks like it's never seen a cloud in its life. Instead, a million stars gaze back at him. The air is crisp and clear. The twinkling lights look like they've been hung on purpose, threaded together in spirals of milky white, glittering back at him from billions of miles away. The pain in his cheek is forgotten, his palms reaching up as if to touch them.

There are tears on his cheeks, he realises. He doesn't know how long they've been there, but the emptiness inside him makes it a bit hard to concentrate on anything. His feet are still shifting restlessly, even as he stares towards the heavens, and the flames in his chest grow a little taller.

Jisung can't stay here, watching the sky, forever.

He wants to. He so dearly wants to, ignoring the tears in his eyes and the pain in his hands. The stars make it all go away, this little corner of the universe just like one of his paintings come to life. It's a scene he's only dreamed of, and his heart cries out at the thought of moving on so easily. 

But he can't. There's no way around trying to deny it- he simply  _can't_. If he thinks back to only a few minutes ago, he can still remember the bright light blinding him. He remembers Minho smiling at him, he remembers the way Seungmin had tried to apologise, and the way the walls of Eden had crumbled to glowing embers.

He pushes himself off the floor.

It stings, more than anything, but he bites it back. Now that he can see even more clearly, the red marks on his palms are even more startling. He's only inspected the back of his hands before, seeing the red marks crawling over his fingers like angry vines. Now that he looks closer, the skin has been stained a dark, dark grey.

They sprawl over his skin like tattoos, throbbing angrily. He hadn't realised his hands were shaking, but looking now, he can barely see where the lines are separate from each other. Even from here, he can see how his skin is raised and sore. The bile is rising in his throat before he can stop it.

He's up before he knows it, scrambling backwards as if he can escape from his own hands. One foot narrowly misses the opening to the elevator hatch, causing his whole body to lose balance again. He tumbles backwards, only just managing to catch himself.

His heart is pounding. His palms don't seem to be part of his body any more, just something horrific and twisted, the sound of the metal hissing echoing in his ears. And yet- something else still catches his eye, tearing him away from the spiral of laboured breathing.

He'd been so caught up with his hands and the beautiful galaxies in the sky that he hadn't thought to look anywhere else.

Around him, the stars bleed into more artificial lights. The concrete floor seems to sway beneath his feet as he looks down and his breath is stolen for yet another time.

The city is red.

The lights of the world below him are bright with the colour. It's the same as the burns on his hands, even if the black silhouettes of the skyscrapers don't quite match the grey streaks on his palms. They flicker hauntingly back at him, casting the whole world in a hazy glow, and sending long shadows across the concrete floor.

Jisung can't help but stare. He's never been this high up before- and now he's stood on top of a building so tall it seems like it could touch the clouds. It's separated from the rest of the city by a shadowy abyss, but the red lights are still so  _close_.

A city.

A  _real-life_  city.

The scenery he's only ever been able to dream about before. It's warmer than he's expecting, the air hanging not quite as heavy as Earth but still similar. There's a light breeze in the air as well, causing his hair to blow behind him as he leans over the edge. It's beautiful.

The colours jump out at him, almost pushing past the numbness in his soul. He can almost forget about the ache in his hands here, and the field of the In-Between has never seemed further away. It twists his stomach to think about, but the flickering greys and reds seem to call out to him. Jisung knows he's never quite fit in at Eden, but the city just seems to... fit.

He reaches out.

The light hides the scars on his hand. It paints his skin in that brilliant crimson, and the shadows cast mirror the darker shades of grey. It stains his shirt the same colour, bathes him in great, flaming scarlet. 

A sound behind him breaks him out of his thoughts.

It makes him jump, as Jisung's always been easy to scare, but he catches himself before anything bad could happen. The ground isn't visible from between the shadows at the base of his building, but Jisung has no doubt that he's incredibly high up. 

Once his feet are safely on the ground, he spins around. Takes a few steps forwards before noticing what - no,  _who -_ had made the sound.

Woojin stares back at him.

His outfit is stunningly similar to Jisung's: the same shirt and trousers, hair expertly styles to sweep across his forehead. Their trainers are the same brand, right down to the matching laces. His hair is dark brown now, almost black, and Jisung frowns. It certainly hadn't been that shade before, and for the first time, he takes note of his own fringe hanging into his eyes.

It's the same colour. The same deep brown, the same colour bordering on black. Jisung tries to reach up and brush it away, but finds that he can't look away from Woojin. The strange numb feeling in his stomach gets stronger, that nagging sense that something is not quite right. 

It's like staring back at a mirror image of himself, with just enough variations to remind him how different they truly are. There is one overwhelming contrast, though.

Whereas Jisung's trousers are back, the same shade as the socks peeking out from his shoes, Woojin's clothes are all white. 

He looks like an angel from where he stands. The clothes almost glow when compared to how dark the sky is, how dark Jisung's own clothes are. His face shimmers with the red light cast from the buildings around them. 

His shoes are black, Jisung notices, when Woojin takes a step forwards, heels clicking against the gravel on the concrete floor. But for some reason, that serves only to make him feel more uneasy. It's almost as if there's a clear border between his pristine socks and the shoes, something that makes Jisung feel dirty. His own clothes are clean compared to what he's been wearing before, the ash and soot never quite having had time to wash out, but somehow, he feels worse than before.

And then he finds himself speaking.

His mouth opens of its own accord, mimicking his footsteps in the carpark and the way his eyes had shut by themselves. 

"This is where it ends?"

Woojin smiles back at him. He takes a step closer, and Jisung ignores how his skin feels like it's about to set alight. "I expected it to be you here."

Jisung frowns. He'd expected this? The glow of the city surrounds them, casting pink shadows on Woojin's white clothes, staining the otherwise spotless shirt and trousers. How had he known this was going to happen? How could he have known this was where Jisung would wake up, especially when no one else seemed to be here?

His mouth goes to form the words, but he never quite gets there.

Instead, he's brought to his knees.

With every step Woojin takes closer, that burning rage only seems to get stronger. With every click of his heels on the floor, a little more of Jisung is wiped out, and a little more anger begins to smoke. The last few hours, ever tear Jisung had shed over his mistakes, it all begins to fade.

He can almost picture himself walking backwards, clothes covered in ash and smoke. Seungmin's face flashes in front of his eyes, and Jisung can't help but cry out. The image receives nothing but bright, burning hate, Felix leaving him one last time, Hyunjin's smile always dancing one step ahead of him.

The long corridors of Eden seem to swallow him up, letting him drown in fury. His skin prickles like he's being stabbed with hundreds of tiny needles, pressed up against the door and listening to the others talk without him. He can hear the whispering of secrets pass between their lips, and he can smell paint on his fingertips.

The regret turns to satisfaction. The smell of burning makes his head spin giddily. He's been waiting for this moment his whole life; how could he regret it? He's so angry, and this feels so  _good_. How could have forgotten this euphoric rush?

Minho is so, _so_  far away.

His face seems to twist, one hand held out, and then Jisung simply doesn’t recognise who he's looking at anymore. He's falling, right into the arms of an empty house, falling from a window ledge. He's falling into the arms of everyone who's loved him. 

He falls onto the empty ground, over and over again.

He's a boy on a rooftop one minute, and a boy in the ruins of a fire the next. 

"Jisung." Woojin's voice is soft, and yet it still makes Jisung’s stomach twist with hate. How dare he speak his name like he knows what Jisung has been through? How dare he stand there, and pretend that he isn't the cause of all Jisung's pain? How dare he stand there, acting like he's so much better, when he's covered in the same ash and dust?

Jisung climbs up again. His knees are sore, as are his hands, but their pain is nothing. He's so angry, so burning red and grey, and he's never cared less. "Why did you bring me here?"

Woojin smiles, that same mocking expression. He looks at Jisung with pity in his eyes-  _pity_ , of all things. As if he feels sad, as if he feels  _regret_. The flame of rage grows a little more. "You came here by yourself."

They get a little closer. Still far enough away, but just a little closer. The temperature seems to rise, and the whispering in Jisung's ears seems to get a little louder. 

"This is where it ends," says Woojin, repeating Jisung's words from earlier. 

He still looks so sad, and Jisung wants to scream. He takes another step closer, only to find Woojin mirrors his action. They're getting nearer to each other with every passing second, eyeing each other like hungry wolves. Or at least, Jisung tries to remind himself,  _he_  is a wolf. He's bright crimson, crackling like a blazing inferno, and Woojin is just a rabbit trapped in a ring of fire.

So why does it feel like he's the one about to be pulled under?

"You understand why this has to happen?" Woojin asks. He hasn't broken eye contact once.

"Leave me alone," Jisung snarls. He doesn't know, and he hates how Woojin taunts that fact. He hates this whole situation, how he's burning so bright and yet he still feels like he's never been more alone. "You don't know anything about me."

"No," Woojin agrees, shaking his head, "But I know The Woods."

"You don't know  _anything._ "

"I should have never split the world."

Jisung freezes in place. He wasn't expecting this. The fire in his heart doesn't seem to know what to do, the whispers in his ears are too caught up in what Woojin has to say, and so he lets the other boy continue. 

"It was a mistake, I know. The universe was so happy to exist as two, and I- I just has to go and ruin that. I was so bored of black and white that the concept of colour made me selfish. I don't regret it, but I can't help but admit it was wrong."

"So why didn't you let us win?" Jisung finds himself saying. It's his voice, his mouth moving, but it's not his words. 

"Once it had begun, there was no stopping it." Woojin looks up, and his smile is punctuated by fat tears on his cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, "There were lives, and they were happy. It was so beautiful, so- so colourful I couldn't let it go back to black and white."

"But we can't exist like this."

Jisung knows that. He's not sure how, but the very thought of unbalancing the universe makes his body want to close up. It makes him feel physically sick with dread. It can't work, the way that the world is now. Eden is gone, Jisung's  _home_ , and everything else is so close to toppling off the scales. 

"That's why it has to end." 

Jisung shakes his head. "I'm not ready," he says, even if the words still aren't his own. At some point, he's become a stranger to his own body. His ears are filled with whispers of what he should do, that bubbling anger. the smell of smoke as the blisters on his plans begin to look more and more like the roots of a tree. He pushes past the lump in his throat, finally speaking words that are his own, "Why does it have to be me?"

"We're all balanced," Woojin says. Jisung wants to scream at him - _that's not what he asked_ \- but he bites his tongue and lets the other continue. "When I split the universe, I didn't just create Earth and Eden from nothing. Everything here - it's part of me. But it's also part of The Woods."

"That doesn't make sense," Jisung whispers, pushing _again_ to simply speak. It can't make sense, because something inside of him knows what this connection should feel like. It knows that he's felt it before, and so the absence of Woojin's presence inside him now is only made even more obvious. The knot in his stomach grows, because he can already anticipate what Woojin is going to say next. 

"The Woods is gone."

Every cell in Jisung's body wants to take a step back. But he doesn't. Why is there such a pain inside him? Why do those words make his body ache like that? Why does he know that Woojin's words aren't strictly true?

"They burnt down," he says, even though his mind is filled iwth pictures of Eden. When had this happened? All he remembers is pure agony, Seungmin lying on the floor in front of him, that addictive rush of revenge. He's still angry, still burning up, and yet he can't help but feel like he's missing something.

Woojin nods, "But you know that's not quite right, don't you, Jisung. I was never going to be able to protect you all, not when confined to this body on Earth, and I'm so sorry that it had to be you. When you woke up here, when I took your memories- _I'm so sorry_ \- you - you became a vessel."

This anger inside of him is not Jisung's own. Maybe it might have been at some point, but The Woods has been stretching out branches of fury and hate for a long time now. Just as Woojin is both the boy on Earth and the boy at The Beginning, Jisung is the boy from Eden and the boy at The End.

"Why me?" He says. The words don't quite make it out in time, dying in his throat as The Woods begins to take back control. _Why does it have to be me?_

"We can make it right again." Woojin avoids the question. He knows Jisung as well as he knows The Woods, and they both know why it had to be Jisung. There's an open window in his mind, and he's falling towards the concrete. Eden's skys are grey as Jisung looks up, as his heart becomes clouded with hate for the first time, the first flame of a raging inferno.

Jisung tears his eyes away. His breath hitches, and his voice cracks when he says, "I'm scared."

Woojin smiles. 

When had he gotten so close? They're less than a metre away now, and getting even nearer. Woojin's hand reaches out and takes Jisung's. Despite the colours of their clothes, despite how much Jisung wants to scream and pull away, he doesn’t. He lets Woojin ignore the marks on his skin.

He lets Woojin pull him closer. 

He's cool. The touch of his skin meets the fire in Jisung's soul and puts it at rest. He hugs tightly, pulling Jisung into himself until his head is buried on his shoulder. He's never felt like this before, the burning finally gone. The screaming in his mind finally quietened.

Woojin's chest is broad, and it almost swallows Jisung. They're so close, and yet he still can't believe that he hasn't burst into flames, that his head is _finally clear_. The smell of smoke is gone, the last few drops of red slowly bleeding away. The grey is still there, but Jisung is no longer angry. He's simply cooling down, finally allowing himself to hiccup into the arms of someone else.

Jisung has been lonely all his life.

But now, with Woojin's chest pressed against his own, he can barely remember what it feels like.

"You understand why this has to happen?" Woojin asks again. 

The red lights of the city blink back. The shadows at the base of their sky-scraper disappearing into the concrete, dark as the night sky above them. It's so hauntingly beautiful, and Jisung can't quite bring himself to close his eyes one last time.

The wall at the edge of the building digs into the back of his calves. He remembers this moment well. Wrapped up in a different boy, standing at the edge of a different fall, so much younger but just as scared. He remembers the fall well, the first time the leaves had begun to settle in his heart. He wonders if it will hurt as much this time. 

Jisung nods.

Woojin pushes them both off the side of the building. 


	35. Chapter 35

 

 

**EARTH**  
  


 

As little as Jeongin can tell from this strange pocket-dimension he's found himself in, he still somehow knows that he's the only one left when the blinding light fades away.

He can't see very much from this position. He's sat perched at the very side of a huge mirror, leaning over into the reflection and staring back at an entirely different world. There's nothing holding him in place, and the field around him seems to stretch on for miles, but his limbs are stuck in place. It's kind of like some warped version of The In-Between, he decides. All the details are correct, even down to the tiny purple flowers dotted throughout the grass, but the air is too still.

He'd tried to stand up when Chan and Woojin's faces had peered through the reflection back at him.

By the time Minho and a scruffy looking boy had joined them, he'd given up.

It had been no use. He could move his arms (he'd tested that out by giving the middle finger to the slither of trees he could see through the edge of the reflection), and his upper body seemed fine as well. It was just from his waist downwards, that he was frozen. Filled with that same swirling mixture of purple and orange, reminding him with every pulse about the mistakes he'd made.

And then-

It had all happened so fast.

His heart had been in his throat ever since Chan and Woojin had left, and he'd been so certain that the ever-growing dread of anticipation was worse than anything else. Just waiting for something to happen. Seconds ticking by, the still air providing no comfort.

He'd barely even realised that the scene through the reflection had changed until he looked down.

Then, for one numbing second, eight faces had looked back at him. Jeongin had been pulled forwards, yanked by an invisible cord to the top of his chest, and suddenly he was in the middle of the mirror. The world had flipped, his stomach had plummeted as he realised that had flipped with it. 

There's a brief moment of suspension. His body isn't touching the ground - gravity hasn't quite caught up yet - and then it all comes crashing back down. Jeongin did  _not_  sign up for being on an interdimensional roller-coaster. But, he thinks as he tries to get his bearings back from the nausea, he didn't sign up for any of this.

The blinding light burns into his eyes, and his hand comes up to shield himself before he can even think about it. The outlines of everyone else bleed into the background. Jeongin has to tear his eyes away, but the light doesn't stop. It fills the mirror-world he's in as well, seeping through the reflection until there's nothing left.

His ears fill with a thundering noise, his own breathing drowning out anything that could have pierced through the silence. 

Jeongin is alone.

Through the light and the noise, it's something he just...  _knows_.

He can't see the faces staring back at him through the reflection, but he knows that they've disappeared anyway. The connection that had tied him to The Woods is pulled taunt, and then simply isn't there. It's as if it had been stretched to breaking point, and then large silver scissors had rested gently against the string. Just enough to warn him of what was coming, but then-

They hadn't been used.

It was as if The Woods was there one second, and then gone the next.

Jeongin's stomach is still falling. Gravity, despite having returned to what he'd thought was normal, is still experiencing a few bugs. His hair is standing upright on his head and his clothes are floating towards the sky. The giddy sense of nausea has not quite receded, and with every movement he makes, a new sense of vertigo causes him to cling to the mirror beneath his hands.

He's not falling.

Is he?

Surely, someone is. He's almost certain someone is falling, that he can feel the wind on his skin from  _somewhere_. He's not imagining things just yet. His stomach is still plummeting, he's still being tossed around with mind-numbing vertigo, and yet he's also completely still. Time is going past so quickly that he's no longer sure how long he's been alone. 

That is, if time even exists any more.

It's becoming hard to think. The light hasn't faded yet, and Jeongin wonders if this is what reality has become. He doesn't seem to be on the same plane of existence as anything else - or maybe this is the way it's always been. The Woods has disappeared, taking with it Earth, Eden and The In-Between. So what's left? Where is Jeongin now, and how is he  _still_  falling?

How is someone else still falling?

Maybe they're not. Maybe they've only been falling for a second, but the warped perception of time has left Jeongin tumbling for what seems like hours. If he really closes his eyes, he can imagine lights on his skin, a dark sky above him. He's holding someone close - or maybe he's being held close.

Or neither.

He's still so painfully alone, falling again and again and again. There's nothing there to stop his decent, but his mind is heavy and the vertigo makes it hard to think. 

The world is crumbling around him. It might have already fallen to pieces, but Jeongin is everywhere at once, and it's still collapsing at some point. He's wrapped up in the fabric of time, so it doesn't really matter at this point. Everything and nothing is happening. Everything and nothing is pulling him to pieces.

He'll hit the ground soon.

Jeongin's mouth suddenly fills with something sweet. It takes him a moment to place the flavour, pushing past the dizziness so many memories have left him with, but he manages it eventually. 

It's the familiar taste of his ice-lolly. The one he'd stolen from the freezer that day, right before listening to the cassette tape and leaving Earth for good. The flavour leaves the stickiness of syrup on his fingers, the heat of a summer's pressed against his skin, bed sheets beneath his head as the world expanded for the first time.

It's so sudden. He almost gags on the intensity of it, taken by surprise. In a moment, this pocket of reality he's found himself in goes fromnothing to  _everything_. He flips over again, still falling but nearing the ground even faster than before. The crumbling seems to push in reverse, re-sculpting itself around him and the overwhelming taste of the lolly. 

Jeongin tries to open his mouth, but he's frozen. His head is filled with the sweetness of the syrup, clouding his senses and-

He hits the ground at the same time the blinding light disappears, and at the same time that everything returns to existence. 

 

-

 

Everything seems to return at full force. It's such a high intensity compared to the endless silence of -  _something_ \- that it takes Jeongin a moment to realise he's falling.

Sure enough, there's nothing beneath his feet. The dizziness isn't something new, and in fact feels more familiar than the heat pressing into his skin from all around him, but is sickening all the same. He's tumbling down, tilted backwards and squinting up into an endless blue sky.

It's terrifying.

The nausea hits him at full force, but his mind is still too heavy to think clearly around it. There's a small voice in the back of his head that asks -  _hasn't he already hit the ground already? -_ but it's ignored against the roar of his heartbeat. Where had he been falling? Why couldn't he stop the endless plummet - how had he hit the ground- why doesn't he know  _anything_?

Everything is so bright and confusing. There's the imprint of light on the back of his eyelids, but the world seems so dark compared to the flash just leaving his vision. It's so bright and blue and beautiful- but why's he looking to the sky? There's something missing in his mind that he just can't put his finger on. A- a connection of sorts, and yet he can't work out what he's supposed to be connected to.

It's so warm. 

So warm and so bright. 

The heat pushes in on him, reminding him of things that only seem to come in bursts of colour and sound, the sickly-sweet taste of an ice-lolly heavy on his tongue. It fills his lungs, choking him as the sun scratches at his skin, unbearable fever burning from the inside out.

It all feels so slow and so familiar, and yet Jeongin is still falling.

Until- he isn't. He hits the ground, he's sure of it, but - maybe he'd already hit the ground? He can still feel the impact, falling again and again as the sky shimmers with galaxies - or maybe he'd imagined it? Sure enough, when he opens his eyes, he's returned to the endless blue, the suffocating summer's day.

His heels are dragging along the ground. Just like it had taken him a while to realise he was falling; his mind finally catches up with the world around him. 

He's not falling.

There's something beneath him stopping him from hitting the floor. He can still feel the impact shuddering beneath his bones, but there's nothing there to see. His hands are wrapped around chains, something he hadn't even managed to think about before. His body is now tilting back the other way, despite his heels slowing almost all of the motion. And yet - he's  _not falling_.

He's on a swing.

There's a swing set in the middle of the park he's sat in. The chains he's holding onto are warm from the sun, the tarmac beneath his trainers causing the air above it to spin and waver. The plastic of the slides practically crackles where the sun is beating down, and the grass at the border of the park is yellow and dried-up.

One of his feet hits a bag, discarded by the side of his swing. He's come to a complete halt now, heels scrambling to dig into the ground and bring him to a stop. Looking down at such a speed causes his head to protest, but- 

The bag is open. The contents spill onto the ground: a brightly coloured beat-up pair of roller-skates. The laces are undone, the toes covered in a thick layer of dust, but Jeongin could recognise them anywhere. He reaches out to touch them. Brush his fingers against the familiar material, as the last of the bright light fades from his eyes.

"Jeongin?"

His fingers connect, he feels them, but suddenly the world seems to shift? Why was he reaching out?  He stares at the bag for a moment more, but nothing decides to suddenly make sense. There's something at the very back of his mind; a vague sensation of tumbling, but he hasn't fallen anytime recently.

"Jeongin? You okay? You've gone a bit pale."

Jeongin leaves the bag where it is. He can't quite work out what he's missing, like an itch at the back of his mind, but it can't be that important if he's forgotten. Besides, if it's schoolwork, he'd rather  _not_  remember. He can count on Chan to remind him of anything he might have missed, and that's the last thought he gives it.

"I'm fine." 

Woojin frowns. He almost looks like he's going to lean over and check Jeongin's forehead for a fever. Not that it would matter in this weather, the temperature's gone well above what Jeongin reckons is safe for humans anyway. But he doesn't. Instead, he stays on his swing, dragging his heels across the floor.

"You're not fine," says another voice. Jeongin swings around, ready to argue, but Jisung manages to finish his sentence first, "You're letting your ice-lolly melt. The  _real_  Jeongin would never waste a lolly."

Lolly?

He can't remember a lolly, but- as he looks down, sure enough, there's a bright blue ice-lolly clutched in his hand. The top has been bitten off, but the rest is rapidly melting in the hot sun, dripping down the stick and staining his fingers. He wiggles them experimentally, just to make sure he's not imagining things.

Except - as he goes to move, he frowns.

Why wouldn't he have had an ice-lolly? He clearly remembers now, digging into the freezer to find one of the last ones remaining. His siblings descended like gannets whenever they thought there might be something sweet in the freezer, so Jeongin had shoved all of his favourite lollies into an empty box of frozen peas. He'd scraped his wrist trying to reach in too far, and the area is still red. 

He can still taste the sweet ice in his mouth.

Without hesitating another second, Jeongin makes eye-contact with Jisung, and then proceeds to stick half the ice-lolly in his mouth all at once. It's melted, and gets more around his lips than anything, but the disgusted face Jisung makes is worth it. 

"You're going to choke," warns Woojin, but he makes no move to help. Knowing him and Jisung, they'd probably watch as he died. 

Jeongin sticks his tongue out in retaliation. "Chan wouldn't just leave me to die," he pouts.

"I wouldn't do what?"

Ignoring the fact that Jisung has practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of the voice, Jeongin and Woojin turn around. Chan is stood there, frowning at the thick layer of dust that covers the remaining swing. He pushes it gingerly, before deciding against sitting down and instead going to lean against Woojin.

"Chan, if I was choking, would you just let me die?"

"Of course no-" Except he looks up, sees the blue stain around Jeongin's mouth, and visibly recoils back. "Okay - well, maybe, if you look like that."

Jisung coughs back a laugh in the corner. Chan only rolls his eyes, taking his bag off from where it's slung around his shoulder and rummaging inside. The brightly coloured ' _free roller-skating session!_ ' tokens they'd cut out from the newspaper (and definitely not photocopied an extra eight times) stand out against the dark fabric of the bag. Eventually, Chan pulls out a packet of wet-wipes. He passes one across the swing silently.

Jeongin almost goes to ask why on earth Chan has wet-wipes in his bad, but quickly gives up when he realises it's more a question of why _wouldn't_  Chan have wet-wipes in his bag.

"Where's Minho?" Jisung asks, as Jeongin wipes his mouth. He's leaning forwards a dangerous amount, practically grazing the floor in his attempt to get a better view of anyone that could be approaching the park. There's no one, which isn't that surprising, but- Jisung checks his watch, "He's late."

"They're all late," says Woojin. He frowns, "In fact, why aren't _you_  late, Jisung? I'd thought you'd be arriving with the others."

‘The others’ refers to Hyunjin, Seungmin and Felix, obviously. It takes Jeongin a second to place why they might be all arriving together. His mind is still thick and heavy with confusion, making it hard to think clearly despite the alarming clarity of his surroundings.

Of course, they're arriving together.

The four of them - Hyunjin, Seungmin, Felix and Jisung - all live in the boarding school nearby. It's a pretty recent build in the scheme of things, since nothing ever seems to happen in the sleepy little town, but Jeongin can't help frowning at his memory. The school had been constructed on a large field just on the edge of town, and there had been protests for months about whether the plan should go ahead or no. The product had resulted in a compromise - the field simply pushing the construction site back, leaving the school separated from the rest of the town. 

It's been at least a year since they moved in. He can't blame something that long ago on a patchy memory.

Jisung smiles guiltily. "It's a funny story," he says, in a way that means it really _isn't_  a funny story.

"He pretended to push Hyunjin out of the window to get out of maths class."

Seungmin has always spoken with a flat tone, and this time is no different. Especially now, as Felix catches up him, looking down and Jisung with a very unimpressed glare. But still, as Jeongin looks closer, he can't miss the sparkle of life in Seungmin's eyes. 

"What?" says Jisung, "It worked, didn't it?"

Felix frowns. "Yeah, for  _you_. The rest of us had to sit through a twenty-minute lecture on how not to waste food."  
  
"Waste food?" asks Chan, because  _really,_ how did pushing someone out of the window result in food waste?

It turns out that he didn't really need to ask, as Hyunjin finally reaches the swings. His white shirt is stained a very bright red, and the smell of tomato ketchup wafts after him only a few seconds later. "Fake blood," he says, when he sees everyone staring, before joining the 'Let's All Glare at Jisung' club. 

Jisung's guilty smile only grows a little wider.

"Here," Woojin throws Hyunjin the packet of wet-wipes. He manages to catch it with one hand, and begins wiping at himself. It only makes a small difference, but each wipe helps a little, and it's better than nothing. Felix takes the rest of the packet and throws it at Jisung's head.

Suddenly there are hands on Jeongin's back. They're firm, pressing against him as if to say ' _I could have pushed you off, but I didn't_.' As Jeongin turns in his seat, he already knows that it's Minho standing behind him. Not loud enough to announce his presence with words, but still there all the same.

Behind him, Changbin doesn't have such problems.

He'd arrived in their friendship group the latest, moving into the house that sat right on the edge of the field by the boarding school. Because of that, it was Felix who'd invited him to join them.  Hyunjin and Seungmin had taken off for one of their 'not-dates', and Felix had tried exploring on his own, fed up of being left behind. He'd almost broken into the house's garden in an attempt to retrieve a frisbee, and him and Changbin had been good friends ever since.

_'Friends',_  Jeongin thinks with raised eyebrows, as he watches Changbin immediately take Felix's side, joining him throwing Hyunjin's used up wipes at Jisung.

The fight isn't too one-sided for long, though. After standing by Jeongin for a while, Minho eventually moves away. His steps are still small and nervous, not quite used to being around Changbin yet, but once he's picking up wipes and firing them back, the frown is nowhere to be seen on his face.

Jeongin's feet drag against the swing as he watches.

The ice-lolly has completely melted now, leaving him holding a blue-stained stick. If he squints, looking past what's actually there, he could almost believe that it's snowing. The ground may be dry and yellow, but the wipes are covering all that up. They float through the air with a startling resemblance to snowflakes.

It's not cold enough for snow.

The heat still bites at his skin. The tarmac hisses in response to the sunlight, and the air around them dances with great waves of distortion. It couldn't be snowing, it hasn't snowed for  _years,_ but-

The last of the wipes settle on the ground, both sides too tired out to continue throwing them. 

If Jeongin looks past what's really there, he could almost believe that it's snowing.

"Oh look," says Chan. It gets the attention of the rest of them, despite the fact that Chan obviously hasn't been paying attention to anything other than Woojin for the past five minutes. He's got his phone in one hand, and is frowning at the screen. "Tell me I'm not hallucinating."

He goes to pass it to Woojin, but Minho gets there first, plucking the screen from Chan's hands before the older boy even has the chance to process what's happened. There's a moment of silence as Minho scans the screen, and then- "What the fuck? It this real?"

"What is it?" asks Hyunjin, standing up gracefully (and by that, Jeongin means he almost tripped over his own feet two separate times, and then proceeded to get his shoe trapped in the bars of the round-about). 

By the time he's managed to get his foot free, everyone is already crowded around the phone. Minho holds it up, displaying it to each and every person as if it's something much more important than Chan's beat-up Nokia. 

But then again, maybe it is.

"100% chance of rain?" Seungmin murmurs. "When's this predicted for?

"Two hours’ time," says Chan. Then, amongst the squawks of protest and disbelief, raises his hands, "I know! It's got to be fake, but that's what all the websites are saying."

Jeongin squints at the sky. "Ah yes, I do love looking at rain clouds." Above them, the sky is still stretching out in an endless hazy blue. The sun is still beating down, undeterred by the forecast of rain, and Jeongin's skin prickles at the thought of even more days in the summer heatwave. 

Woojin seems to share the same sentiment as him. He's still sat on his swing, the only one of them left. It's close enough to Chan that he didn't need to move, and instead rocks from side to side in a soothing motion, dragging his heels along the burning tarmac. "Let's hope they're right."

"Since when are they ever right?" Minho snorts, raising his eyebrows. He's right, of course, but it does none of them any good to be so negative. Besides, as much as Jeongin agrees with him and would like to speak his mind, he knows what happens when they try and be pessimistic while Felix and Changbin.

Felix is standing next to him and, as predicted, shoves him away. "Don't be so negative."

Minho smirks in return, and- all he's done is take the attention of Jisung for just long enough. He's climbed onto one of the empty swings while no one was looking, and leans dangerously backwards. "Fuck the weatherman!"

"Don't fuck the weatherman!" Chan squawks, practically throwing his phone to Changbin in an attempt to drag Jisung off the swing before he inevitably hurts himself. Changbin, of course, fumbles for a second and then immediately drops it. The phone falls to the ground with a resounding  _thud_ , and sends the group into chaos.

Jeongin smiles.

He looks up again and watches as the first few wisps of white begin to gather in the endless blue, as the heavy air gets a little heavier. He could be imagining it, but it feels a little damper than before.

He could close his eyes now. He could shut off from the noise of his friends, from the lolly-stick still grasped in his hands, and he could  _feel_. Someone shouts behind him, there's the creak of the ancient swing set, but Jeongin doesn't have to listen to any of that.

He does, though.

He tears his eyes away just as the sky begins to darken, and pushes to the centre of crowd. Jisung tries to leap off the swing to escape Chan, and instead ends up clinging to Hyunjin's torso. It causes Hyunjin to trip backwards, right into Seungmin, who attempts to keep his balance by grabbing Felix's arm. Changbin dives for Chan's phone, but despite Minho trying to pull the chains of the swing as far back as he can, Woojin is just a little quicker. 

Not quick enough, though. Jeongin drops his ice-lolly stick and grabs the phone before Woojin's fingers even have the chance to get a proper grip. With all his strength, he throws the device into the distance. 

Chan yells, but there's no malice in his tone. Instead, his shout draws the attention of the pile of Jisung-Felix-Seungmin-Hyunjin on the floor. The forecast is forgotten as they each scramble towards the phone. The summer is only just beginning, after all.

The first raindrop of a million more to come hits his shoulder, and Jeongin doesn't even notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so,,, this is it. we've finally reached the end.  
> i don't think i've thanked everyone who read this enough, especially those who left comments. every time someone said what they thought, it brightened my day. thanks for sticking through this god-awful confusing plot as well, i think i'm still surpised that anyone actually made it to the end lmao
> 
> i would like to say i'm resting after finishing this, but ;)))  
> look out for a woochan adopting kid!skz fic coming soon to stores near you


End file.
